The Redemption of Draco Malfoy
by luckei1
Summary: Can Draco be saved from his Deathly Hallows fate of being a sniveling coward?
1. Nothing But Pictures

**A/N:** This story is told in two timelines: present and past, separated by a bar. It doesn't skip around, and there is only one division per chapter, save the last one. Many thanks to my betas, Shug, pokeystar, and elyaeru, for the excellent input and help.

Written in answer to a challenge presented by drcjsnider: Can Draco Be Saved From His DH Fate of Being a Sniveling Coward? This story has a prequel, a one-shot I wrote a couple of months ago called "The Other Side." (Available on my profile) It's not necessary to read it, but there are things from it mentioned in this story.

**Disclaimer: **Harry Potter and his world belong to JK Rowling. I write to learn. No money is being made.

**The Redemption of Draco Malfoy**

**Chapter 1**** – Nothing But Pictures**

Hogwarts was the center of activity in the days following the end of the war. In the Great Hall, funeral arrangements were made; friends and family reunited, and plans for the future were discussed with great alacrity. The dungeons of the castle were once again used for their original purpose; all of the remaining Death Eaters and those who had been captured from the Dark side were herded up and locked away until their arrests could be processed and the prisoners sent to Azkaban.

Hermione had done her part in the aftermath and she was exhausted, mentally and physically. Neither she, Ron, nor Harry had slept much since the great battle, sleeping in short shifts to let the others continue assisting in the work that everyone was doing.

That night, after dinner and most people had gone to bed, Hermione sought a bit of quiet solitude. She slowly climbed the steps to the Astronomy Tower, thinking about everything that had happened. Ron had been the most outspoken when it came to future plans; he had his life already mapped out from that moment onward. He, Harry, and Hermione would enter Auror training. Harry would marry Ginny, and though he didn't say it, she suspected he thought the two of them would also marry. Both couples would have large families, live next door to each other, and live happily ever after.

Hermione was beginning to regret the kiss she had given him. It had been done in a moment of haste, so thrilled had she been that Ron had finally, _finally_, understood where she was coming from. She didn't think he fully embraced her passion for the rights of all magical creatures, but at least he had been thinking about it. Still, it was impulsive and borne from years of fancying him.

Her feelings for him had started to fade after he abandoned Harry and her in the woods, though it had taken her time to recognize what was happening. When she needed him the most, he left without a care, and returned for Harry, only Harry. She really shouldn't have kissed him. Although, perhaps it was for the better. She could now say without a doubt that the feelings she had once felt for Ron were gone.

Hermione reached the door to the tower and pushed it open. After climbing out, she glanced around and saw that she hadn't found a place of solitude; someone else was there.

"Malfoy!" she said, letting go of the door and backing away from him.

He stood on the opposite side of the tower, leaning against the crenellations. His black robes billowed behind him in the wind and his pale, scarred face was drawn as he watched her.

With a great sigh, he turned around. "Granger."

Instinctively, Hermione's hand flew to the scar on her chest that he had healed. So much had happened since that night, when she had thought him truly incapable of harm. The truth had been a bitter pill to swallow.

"Wh-what are you doing here?" she asked, her other hand itching for her wand.

"What are _you_ doing here?" he mimicked, his voice utterly flat and devoid of emotion.

"I … that's none of your business," she replied haughtily.

He shook his head. "No. I meant that whatever reason brought you here, it probably brought me here as well."

"I needed a place to think," she said automatically.

"See?" he said hollowly.

Hermione stared at Draco's back, frowning. He seemed so … lost, resigned, empty. So different from the young man who had risked everything to save her life just one year ago. She crossed the tower to stand a few feet from him. Despite everything she had heard about him, despite the one time she had seen him since that fateful night on this same tower, she did not fear him.

There was so much between them that hadn't been said; she didn't know where to start. "What are you thinking about?" she asked.

"The end of my life," he replied flatly.

Hermione's eyes widened as she considered where they were—the place Dumbledore had been killed—how high off the ground they were, and the way Malfoy was peering over the side. Without another thought, she rushed across the tower to his side, putting her hand on his arm. "Don't, don't jump, Malfoy."

He stared at her hand, so pale against his dark cloak, and then met her frightened eyes. "Why not?" he asked. "What do I have to live for?"

"Plenty," she said without thinking.

"Really?" He raised an eyebrow skeptically.

This time she thought about his question. Of course, he had the Dark Mark, had been responsible for Dumbledore's death, had used Unforgivables on at least two people, and she had no idea what else he had done since leaving the school with Snape. His future seemed set; he would go to Azkaban.

"Still, I don't think you should end your life," she protested, removing her hand.

He sighed. "I'm not going to jump off this tower, Granger. Too much a coward for such theatrics. But …" Did he really want to talk to her about all of this? "I turn eighteen in a few weeks. Eighteen and my life is over."

"You don't know that," Hermione said, not entirely sure of what she was trying to convince him. "I'll tell them what you did for me. They might be lenient."

Draco shook his head. "I don't want a reduced sentence; I want _no_ sentence. Besides, what I did for you would be nothing compared to what else I've done, what I'm responsible for."

"That's not true," she continued. "Without me, Harry would have had a much harder go of things. There's no way to know the impact of your decision that night."

"It doesn't matter. Once, I thought it might, but now … the only person who can help me is dead."

Hermione frowned. "Who?"

"Doesn't matter," Draco replied. "No one would believe him anyway."

"You don't know that," Hermione said. "Snape … was many things but he was on our side. Harry just found out, maybe—"

Draco peered at her intensely, trying to discern if she was telling the truth. Then he said, angrily, "Wonderful. Even if that's true, there's absolutely no proof. All I have is my word, and I don't think it's worth much of anything to your lot. Just forget it."

"Tell me," she said.

"I said, forget it!" he snarled, anger flashing through his eyes for an instant. Then it was gone, and his eyes took on a lifeless, haunted look, dull and grey. His voice matched his dead eyes when he quietly asked, "Does it hurt, ever?"

Hermione knew he was referring to the cursed stab wound on her chest. "Sometimes. When I'm tired or have been expending a lot of magic." It occurred to her that she was standing there, having a conversation with Draco Malfoy. She had so many questions for him that she had thought up over the last year that she didn't know where to start. She didn't even know if she wanted to know the answers. Malfoy had done more to send her emotions in spirals than any other person alive.

"Thank you," he said, his voice nearly a whisper. "For not saying anything."

"I told you I wouldn't," she said.

"I know. I didn't really believe you." Draco gave her an apologetic smile.

"I don't understand you," Hermione said, shaking her head and turning away from him.

"Why do you want to?" he asked.

The question struck her like a bucket of cold water to the face. In the year since he had healed her, saved her life, she had tried to figure him out. After she had learned of the circumstances surrounding his task to kill Dumbledore, she had hoped he would turn himself over to the Order, that maybe he had experienced a change of heart on that tower that would carry over into the rest of his life.

When months passed and that didn't happen, she tried to understand why. None of her theories were consistent with what she would later learn about him; he never did what she expected him to do. She had enjoyed her little mystery, which she had spent many lonely nights puzzling out, but now it wasn't so amusing. He really would be sent to Azkaban and was likely to stay there the rest of his life. Hermione had no conclusions, and she probably would never know the answers to her questions. This might be her one chance, yet she couldn't bring herself to press him.

"I don't know," she whispered.

After a few minutes passed in strangely comfortable silence, Draco sighed and stood up. "Shouldn't you be off celebrating or something?"

"I've had enough of celebrating for the evening," she said with a chuckle.

"I'm going. My mother will wonder where I am. She gets herself in fits if I'm gone for too long." He rolled his eyes, but Hermione suspected he didn't mind all that much.

"All right."

"Look, there's a cream I know of that you could use for that wound. It's called 'Delphine's' and it's for cursed wounds and scars. The recipe can be found in books for healing Dark magic."

Hermione nodded. "Thank you." She turned to face him without knowing what, if anything, she should say. This would probably be the last time she saw him. "I … I would like some answers," she said, trying to be assertive but failing in light of the scrutinizing look in his eyes.

"Wouldn't we all?" Draco reached his hand up and hesitantly tucked a stray lock of curls behind her ear. As he withdrew his hand, his eyes full of confusion and pain, he lightly traced the line of her jaw, pausing at her chin before dropping his arm.

Hermione stopped breathing at the sudden tender display. Malfoy stirred yet another emotion in her when she hoped, briefly, that he would kiss her. The desire surprised her, but before she could blink, he had moved toward the door.

"Malfoy," she called without thinking. He paused just before opening the hatch and looked at her expectantly. There were many things she wanted to say, but nothing would stay on her lips. It wouldn't matter, anyway. She settled on, "Good luck."

Draco nodded. "Take care, Granger."

Then he disappeared into the castle, leaving Hermione alone with her restless thoughts.

* * *

Draco ran.

He ran as fast as he possibly could, faster than he had ever run before. He didn't need the encouragement of his professor to keep him going, nor the sounds of spells being fired behind him.

_Just get past the gates!_

Once he was through, Draco doubled over in pain, his side aching. No one was with him. The large blond Death Eater had pulled up to help Snape. Draco had a few moments to think and all he knew was that he wanted to keep running, until he couldn't move or until he was somewhere else, anywhere else.

He hobbled behind a large tree to catch his breath and heard Snape shouting at Potter. Only a few seconds were granted him to think, and he couldn't decide, just as he couldn't kill the old man.

Soon the others were running past: the blond, the brother and sister, Greyback, and finally Snape. Four loud pops of Disapparation were heard and Draco waited, holding his breath, for the fifth.

"Draco?" called Snape in a harsh whisper. "Where are you? I'm not leaving without you, and I know you can't Apparate."

In that moment, Draco's future flashed before his eyes. Kneeling before the Dark Lord, taking the punishment for failing his task, and if he survived, cementing his pledge of a lifetime of support. He'd barely meant it when he made it, his thoughts bent on revenge against Potter and his friends for getting his father sent to prison. Now … the thought of living his life in terrified service was unthinkable.

"_Expelliarmus_!" he shouted, jumping out from behind the tree, his wand aimed squarely at Snape's chest.

Snape hadn't been prepared for this, and the spell struck him hard, sending him flying backward into a bush and his wand into Draco's hand. Snape didn't move, so Draco approached him, wand trained on the dark space where he had disappeared, his hand shaking so badly he would never hit his target.

"Get up!" Draco whispered desperately. He couldn't have killed the man, not with a simple Disarming spell! "Up!"

Slowly Snape rose, a deep scowl on his face. "You fool! What are you doing? They'll be here any moment!"

"I-I'm not going with you. I can't go with you, I can't …" Draco's voice trailed off, silenced by sheer panic.

Snape breathed deeply and took a cautionary step toward Draco, keeping his hands visible. "You must, Draco. There is no choice."

"Don't say that!" Draco could hardly breathe he was so scared. "I-I do have a choice!"

"I'm afraid you've already made it," Snape said sternly, stepping closer.

Draco hitched his wand up threateningly.

"Think of your mother," Snape continued. "She will surely be killed for your desertion. Where would you go that you could hide from the Dark Lord? Running now would be futile. The only way to protect your mother now is to come with me."

Draco's hand was shaking violently. "I don't want to do this," he moaned. "I can't do it! You saw me, I-I don't belong with _him_."

"Draco, the only choice for you now is to return with me, and quickly. I assure you, I will do everything in my power to protect you, both immediately and in the future." Snape reached up and took the wand from the boy's hand.

Draco let him arm fall limply to his side, overcome with shame and fear.

"Come," commanded Snape. "We must go at once."

Snape grabbed his arm and pulled, but Draco resisted. The Professor rounded on him.

"Haven't I made myself clear?" he spat. "The longer we delay, the worse your punishment will be. You have no choice. I will help you, but you must trust me."

Draco felt his knees threaten to give way, and he nodded, feeling utterly defeated. Even if he wasn't killed, he would still be forced into a servitude he did not want, while his parents, whom he had been trying to save, continued to slave away for their master.

**ooo**

The celebration was already in motion when Snape and Draco arrived at the Dark Lord's hideout. No doubt the other Death Eaters were eager to be the one to impart the news. Snape stopped just outside the door and turned Draco to face him.

"Listen to me carefully. Be honest—he will know if you are otherwise. Admit your fear, your hesitation. If he wants to see your thoughts, you must not fight. Allow me to bear the brunt of his wrath, as it was I who ultimately removed the decision from you. Do you understand?"

Draco nodded blearily, his entire body numb. There would be no more freedom, no more sun, no more simple days of lounging about with his friends. From this moment on, he was just another insignificant soldier in the darkest army ever conceived.

Snape pushed open the door, and Draco followed, nearly running to keep up. The room quieted as Snape strode commandingly, unfrightened, into the room and to the place where the Dark Lord sat like a king. He dropped one knee to the ground, and Draco followed his lead a few feet behind him. Nagini hissed, and then the sound of Parseltongue could be heard as the Dark Lord calmed his pet.

"There, there, Nagini," he said finally, petting the snake on the head. "Why should you greet the hero of the hour with such … contempt?" His voice was dangerously smooth, and Draco could feel the bright feral red eyes burning the top of his head; he dared not look up.

"So," said Voldemort, rising fluidly from his chair to pace the length of the short stage on which he had been sitting. "So, the deed is done but not as planned."

Draco sensed him stop in front of him, though he dared not move his head to be certain. Then his mind was being invaded, and Draco cringed at the strange pain that accompanied the forced Legilimancy. It was as though his thoughts and memories were being torn apart. Soon the Dark Lord arrived at the tower and watched the scene unfold along with Draco. When he had seen enough, Voldemort pulled out of Draco's mind, sending a jolt of sharp pain through his head.

"Incompetent whelp," the Dark Lord spat, then he moved on.

Only then did Draco dare to glance up, and he saw the Dark Lord scanning the crowd. "Narcissa!" he bellowed.

"My Lord," said Draco's mother, bowing reverently before his master. Draco's heart leapt at seeing his mother alive and well, but then he panicked, pleading silently with the maniac that she would not be harmed.

"See that he is properly punished for his failings."

"Yes, my Lord." Narcissa bowed again.

"Bellatrix," purred the Dark Lord. "Assist your sister."

She cackled gleefully and nodded, anxious to carry out her master's orders. Draco's stomach dropped.

Then a sinister grin appeared on Voldemort's face, and he laughed, a sick, twisted shadow of joy. "The deed is done!" he shouted to the room. A cheer went up. "And Severus," he said, moving to stand before the professor, who hadn't so much as twitched. "Dear, loyal, Severus. Perhaps you can explain why you did not give the boy a chance to fulfill his duty."

"My Lord, there was simply no time. The Order was in the castle, and many students as well as teachers were fighting with them. The need for haste was imperative, if we were to make it out unscathed."

"I see," drawled the Dark Lord, his eyes drifting from Snape to Draco and back. Then he grinned again. "I am much too elated to want to punish you, Severus. However, you still disobeyed me, and I'm afraid that, despite the most excellent circumstances, that cannot be overlooked."

Draco saw Snape tense in preparation for the curse he knew would come at any second. Then Snape was writhing on the ground, his face contorted in agony. He only cried out a few times, and then the Dark Lord released him.

"This is a night of celebration!" he cried, and again the crowd cheered. "Narcissa! In return for your son's scheme which led to an invasion of the school, and then to the … untimely death of its Headmaster, I will have your husband released."

Narcissa gasped, and Bellatrix snapped her teeth. Draco's eyes widened; he wasn't sure if this was good news or bad.

"And from now on, my headquarters will be located in your welcoming, expansive home, Narcissa."

Draco saw his mother swallow hard, her face going from impassive to grateful.

"My Lord," she said. "It would be an honor."

Voldemort chuckled and leered at Bellatrix, who stood beside her sister and her husband. "Indeed. It is my desire that all of your family remains in the house."

"It will be as you wish," Narcissa replied, bowing.

"Excellent. It will begin tonight." The Dark Lord waited for no response and strode from the room, Bellatrix quick at his heels with her husband and brother-in-law.

The crowd emptied until only Draco, Snape, and Narcissa remained. Snape had not yet regained consciousness.

"Oh, Draco!" cried Narcissa, rushing across the room and flinging her arms around her son. She sobbed against his shoulder, clutching at his robes as though if she relaxed for one instant, he would be gone.

"Mother," he said, his voice cracking. He returned the hug, amazed at his fortune. The deed had been done, and not by him, his mother was perfectly well, and he hadn't even been punished for his failure. "Snape," he choked out.

"Yes," said Narcissa, finally releasing her son. "I will tend to him."

"You should go, he … he won't want to be kept waiting."

Narcissa hesitated, clearly unwilling to let Draco out of her sight now that she had him back safe and unharmed.

"Go, Mother," Draco insisted. "The chance has not passed for his anger to turn on us again."

She nodded, her beautiful face contorted with pain, and Disapparated.

Draco knelt beside his Professor's unconscious body, finally able to breathe deeply. He had survived one more day. "Professor," he said, gently shaking him. "Sir."

After a few moments, Snape stirred. Groggily he opened his eyes, wincing at the dim light. When his vision focused on Draco, he nodded. "Good. You're all right." Slowly he moved into a sitting position, then pulled out his wand and cast a strengthening spell on himself.

"Are you okay?" Draco asked.

"I will be fine," Snape replied. "What has happened?"

"H-He told my mum that he would release my father, and that he'll be using my home for his headquarters from now on. They've gone there now, to celebrate."

"Ah." Snape stood, pausing a moment to be sure his legs would support him. "Did you receive any punishment at the Dark Lord's hands?"

"No," replied Draco. "My mother is to do it." At Snape's raised eyebrow, Draco added, "With my aunt."

"Ah. We shouldn't delay."

"Sir," said Draco, his voice surprisingly commanding. He waited until Snape had given him his full attention. "You said that you would help me."

Snape sighed impatiently. "And I will. However, the less you know the better for you. I will contact you when I have something useful to share."

Draco nodded, numbness creeping into his mind. There was no plan. "What should I do until then? Sir?"

"Keep your head down, mouth shut, and ears open—wide open, Draco. I mean that above all. Any conversation you come upon, memorize it. Write down what you learn if you must, and keep it hidden. Is that clear?"

"Yes," Draco responded, feeling slightly better. Now he had something to do. "Should I seek out these conversations?"

"Only if you can do so without raising suspicion." Snape looked him over critically. "I believe you can manage well enough. Come, we must be going."

Draco stared as his Professor—former Professor, now—spun on his heel and strode through the room, his robes billowing in his wake.

"Let's _go_," Snape snapped.

Draco finally followed, not sure what he felt. His world had been turned on its end and then somehow, incredibly, righted again with his family still intact and no harm to him—yet. He knew he didn't deserve such luck, but for some reason, the fates had given it to him.

He didn't think about Hermione until much later, when he was finally tucked into his warm bed, after hugging his mother goodnight.

The celebration had nearly gone all night, and the sun would be rising in less than an hour. Despite being completely exhausted, Draco's mind wouldn't slow down to allow him sleep, and his thoughts turned to her. His chest tightened inexplicably, and he realized that he felt as though he had let her down. She didn't know a thing about his task, but she had hoped—the last thing she had said to him that night confirmed it—that he would turn out good, in the end.

He wished he could have told her that the world wasn't so black and white, that there was something between those who carried the Mark and those who didn't. Even more, not all those who had been branded wanted to remain that way. He was living proof of that. He had been given the chance to taste that life, the life he had grown up hearing about, which had been glorified and bemoaned for its absence. It simply didn't fit him; there was something that made him different from most of his family, and he only hoped Snape would be able to help sort him out.

As he looked out of his window, at the sky that was slowly turning to lighter shades of blue, Draco wondered what Hermione was doing right then. Probably sleeping, he thought. Had she cursed him? Hated him after learning what he had done … what he had _almost_ done? Was she regretting, even for one moment, letting him into her life, as she had done the night he had saved her? He hadn't regretted it for an instant and would have gladly done so again. She had looked at him a few times since that night with respect, almost admiration in her eyes, and it had made his chest swell with pride.

Draco brought to mind the last time it had happened, just a few days before, in Potions. It had been quick, and he'd nearly missed it as he returned from the ingredients cabinet. Weasley had dropped something, making a loud noise, and he'd turned their direction, a biting remark forming on his tongue. His eyes had met hers for an instant, and the words had died in his mouth.

Draco yawned and felt his eyelids fighting to close. He drifted to sleep with the last words she had spoken to him replaying in his mind, whispered from her lips.

"_I hope we both get to see the other side of this."_

**ooo**

**End Notes:**Thanks for reading! Chapter title taken from Lewis Carroll's, "Alice in Wonderland."


	2. Down the Rabbit Hole

After a fall such as this, I shall think nothing of tumbling downstairs!  
Alice, "Alice in Wonderland"

**Disclaimer**: Harry Potter and his world belong to JK Rowling. I write to learn. No money is being made.

**ooo**

**Chapter 2**** – Down the Rabbit Hole**

The task of sorting through Severus Snape's personal effects fell to Harry. Snape's will was discovered in the Headmaster's office two weeks after the final battle, and for some reason, he had left everything to Harry for one week following the reading of his will; after that, ownership transferred to Draco. There was no explanation, and no one who had known Snape could offer any enlightenment. explanation.

Snape's portrait had not yet been activated, and it wouldn't be until after the transfer of ownership had taken place.

One thing Hermione knew, however, was that Snape had wanted Harry to find something among his belongings. She was convinced of this, and so she persuaded her friend to turn oversight of the task over to her, so that she could keep proper records of everything and lay eyes on every single item Snape had owned.

Harry had easily agreed, wanting to be quite out of sight from anyone, and so Hermione was at Hogwarts, in Snape's quarters, with Ron, Ginny, and Neville. She had a system in place, and everything was going according to plan.

As she watched her friends go through Snape's things, Hermione couldn't help but feel slightly ill at ease. The things in this room and his classroom had meant something to their former Potions professor, and they were now being treated with the respect one gave to something they didn't care about. She sighed; it was to be expected, she realized. There was no way they could care for Snape's things the way he had. She only wished they hadn't needed to be caring for them at all, and that Snape had somehow lived through the war. The more she learned about him, the true tragedy of his life was laid open before her, and she wished that she had taken the time to see through his cold, hard exterior when she had the chance.

"Look at this," said Ron, pulling a small, wooden box from one of the desk drawers. He brought it to Hermione excitedly, clearly hoping for some kind of recognition from her. They still hadn't been able to talk about the kiss, and Hermione kept putting it off.

"What is it?" Hermione asked, peering into the box. Set into the box was a thin strip with six holes. Three of them were empty, but the other three contained vials in which a pale blue, silvery liquid floated and swirled of its own accord.

"Memories," said Ron, pulling one of the vials out. "Two of them have Malfoy's name on them."

Hermione frowned. "Malfoy? Let me see."

Ron handed her the one he was holding.

Sure enough, there was a label on it, Malfoy's name written in abrupt scrawl. Her thoughts dashed back to the night on the tower when she'd come across Malfoy. He had said that Snape was the only one could help him … What had he meant? Could these vials have something to do with it?

"Thanks, Ron," she said, giving him a hurried smile and taking the box from him.

He stood there for a moment longer before returning to his task and Hermione felt awful. She had been the one to kiss him, and she had barely paid him any attention since. Granted, it had been a tumultuous week for everyone. No one really had much time for anyone, with everything that had to be done. There had already been so many funerals that Hermione had been grateful for the opportunity to do something worthwhile that would take her mind off things. Ron and Ginny were with her now for the same reason: something to do to take their minds off their grief.

Hermione added the box of vials to her inventory and looked at all three. Only two were labeled "Draco," which made her even more curious about the third. She set the box to the side so she wouldn't get it mixed in with everything else.

**ooo**

Hermione tapped her foot impatiently, her arms folded across her chest and a look of annoyance on her face. This lift was too bloody slow.

"You know, Miss, the lift won't move any faster just because you wish it."

She looked at the man beside her, a tall wizard in the traditional garb of a warden of Azkaban prison, and fought the urge to scowl at him. When she turned away, she stopped tapping her foot, but that did not make her any more patient.

Finally, the lift stopped, and Hermione followed the man down a long hallway and through a door with the number twenty-three written on the outside in red.

"Here you are, Miss Granger, as requested. Prisoner number fifty-seven forty-two. Please knock on the door when you are finished." Without a second glance, the man returned through the door, shutting it behind him.

Slowly, Hermione turned her gaze to the center of the room, where prisoner fifty-seven forty-two sat at a wide table. He wore grey prison robes and his hands were magically bound, like handcuffs, keeping them together. The color complimented his pale complexion and his eyes, but she was disturbed to see that his hair had been shorn.

Bald was not a good look on Draco Malfoy.

When her eyes finally found his, he quirked an eyebrow. "Granger."

His voice broke whatever spell she'd been under, and she crossed to the chair opposite his and sat down, and then pulled the vials from her purse, setting them on the table.

Draco frowned as he watched her.

"Do you know what these are?" she asked.

"No," he said simply, looking back at her.

"Allow me to enlighten you. The substance inside each of these vials is called Memoriola liquoris. They are memories, Malfoy." His expression still showed no sign of recognition. "We found them in Snape's things," she added quietly.

Then his eyes widened and he turned interested eyes back on the vials. "What do they have to do with me?"

"Two of them have your name on them, and the other, though unlabeled, is also about you."

Draco's eyes narrowed. "I take it you've viewed them, then?"

"I have," she replied, averting her eyes from his piercing gaze. "They were given to Harry, through Snape's will, but they will become your custody tomorrow night at midnight." She took the vials in her hand. "I think Snape wanted us to find these. That he knew you'd be sent to prison, and so someone would have to search his things to uncover these. He left everything at first to Harry because he knew that I would take care with his things and successfully recover the memories."

"I've known …" Draco paused, pain flashing briefly through his eyes. "I _knew_ Snape all of my life. Those memories could be about anything."

Hermione sighed. "They aren't simply random memories, Malfoy." She started absently fidgeting with one of the vials. "What I want to know is … why?"

Their eyes met, and Draco stared at her, hard. "Why what?" he asked finally.

"Why didn't you tell … anyone?" she asked, not wanting to say what she was thinking. _Why didn't you tell me?_

"I couldn't," he replied. "Snape forbade it. Besides, who could I tell? None of my friends, none of the teachers; I certainly couldn't tell my parents."

She looked at him with a slight frown. How could he _not_ have thought of her? After what he had done, saving her life … They had formed a bond that night, or so she had thought. Surely he knew he could trust her!

"What?" he said.

"Well," she started, not sure if she wanted to say what she'd been thinking. "You might have considered possibly telling me."

Draco frowned. "You?"

"Forget it," she said quickly, rummaging through her purse so she wouldn't have to look at him. "Here. The wizard representing you before the Wizengamot wants you to go over this list of questions and prepared answers."

Draco took the scroll from Hermione and looked at it warily. "When is it? The trial, I mean."

"It starts in two weeks," she replied softly.

"Did you look into that cream I told you about?" he asked suddenly.

Hermione blinked, surprised at the change in conversation. "I did, yes. It works very well. The longer I use it, the more it's supposed to help."

"I'm glad," Draco said with a lopsided smile. "I, um, researched the curse Blaise used, and the lasting effects of the poison. Most sufferers recommended that cream."

She stared at him in surprise. He had spent time looking up a remedy that would alleviate her symptoms. She was rather flattered, which only added to the confusion she had been feeling for over a year.

"Thanks," she mumbled, looking at her hands.

"So, these memories," Draco said, picking up one of the vials and turning it in his fingers. "What are they, exactly? I'm guessing you wouldn't have brought them unless you thought they could be useful."

Hermione nodded, slipping into information-mode. "If these are accurate—we've got an appointment to have them verified tomorrow—they could go a long way toward ensuring that you get little to no prison time. Considering the circumstances behind your actions, I think we can get the Wizengamot to sympathize with your predicament. Harry can attest as well that Dumbledore knew of your task and wanted Snape to complete it. He's got his own set of memories, already authenticated, and—"

Draco held up a hand, his bonds forcing him to lift both. "Wait," he said. "What's all of this 'we' business? I have a court-appointed representative."

"I know," Hermione said. "I thought, seeing as I … well, Ron, really, found these memories, that I would help."

"Help the court-appointed representative, who has been doing this for probably fifty years by the look of him?" Draco asked amusedly. "What exactly are you going to do? And, more importantly, why? Why would you help me?"

She frowned. "You saved my life. Isn't that enough?"

Draco let out an exasperated sigh and stood up. "After everything?" he said finally, leaning against the wall. "You want to help me?"

"Would you rather I not?" she asked defensively.

"No, I … okay. Please continue. The memories."

Hermione didn't continue right away. "They contain evidence that you provided Snape with information for the Order. As I said, they need to be authenticated and checked against the timeline, but Snape was careful to always say the date in these. Once that's done, two of these would seem to indicate that your data was used by the Order, to good results. That, combined with everything else … I think you've got a shot at avoiding a prison sentence."

* * *

September the first was a day Draco usually looked forward to. It meant the beginning of a new school term and seeing his friends again. This year, however, the last place on earth he wanted to be was Hogwarts. Well, scratch that. Hogwarts was second to last, just before anywhere the Dark Lord happened to be.

Narcissa stood with him, tall and proud, fussing over his robes.

Draco attempted to shrug her off, but she wouldn't be dissuaded.

"Head Boy," she said, a beautiful smile on her lips. "I'm so proud. You should be as well—you've earned it."

"Snape made me Head Boy to make Father happy," he replied dully.

Narcissa tutted. "Your grades speak for themselves."

There was no point in arguing with her, so Draco kept quiet. The platform was greatly subdued as compared with years past. None of the students were running around, greeting their friends, or laughing, or smiling. He spotted Longbottom with the youngest Weasley, saying goodbye to her parents in hushed voices, with suspicious eyes.

This year would certainly be different, Draco thought, looking around for Potter, Weasley, and … Granger. He had thought of her more often then he would ever admit, usually under the pretense of thinking about her scar. Was it hurting her? Had she told anyone? Did she hate him now?

"There you are," said a new voice, one he recognized as belonging to his friend, Crabbe. "Let's get on the train and find a compartment. Maybe we can toss some first-years out of theirs." He chuckled to himself.

Draco fought the urge to roll his eyes. He doubted he would be doing much bullying this year. His heart simply wasn't in it anymore.

"Hello, Vincent. Yes, Draco, hurry on," said Narcissa, adjusting Draco's tie one last time. "Do write to let me know how you are."

Draco didn't miss the anxious look in her eyes. "I will, Mum," he said and then left with Crabbe.

He couldn't remain too melancholy, or his friends would pick up on it and question him. So he joined in the conversation and echoed the sentiment that the year would be infinitely better without the old coot, despite the fact that he felt slightly nauseous at any mention of their former Headmaster.

Pansy was just as clingy, Crabbe and Goyle as dense, and Zabini as indifferent and aloof as ever. All Draco had to do was act pompous and he could get through without attracting any unwanted attention.

Halfway through the trip, Draco was summoned by a Prefect and told that he was required in McGonagall's cabin to discuss Head duties. He dreaded the thought of being faced with the woman, knowing she probably wanted to dismember him slowly and painfully and then torture him in pieces.

When he arrived, he saw Daphne Greengrass already inside, talking with McGonagall.

"Oh, good, Mr. Malfoy, you're here," said the older woman without looking at him. "I have just finished discussing your duties with Miss Greengrass. She can fill you in." With that, McGonagall left them alone in the compartment.

He looked at Daphne, who shrugged. "Can't really blame her, can you?" she said.

Draco scowled and mumbled, "Whatever."

Daphne sat across from him and started rattling off things McGonagall had told her. Draco barely paid her any attention, staring out the window, grateful for a moment where he didn't have to pretend that he was miserable.

"Draco? Did you hear me?"

He turned to look at the girl, and she huffed in annoyance. "I can't do all of this by myself, you know. I never imagined I'd be Head Girl, not with Granger in our year. I didn't want this either."

Granger? It only just occurred to him that she wasn't the one sitting across from him. Daphne was Head Girl, which meant that Snape had kept the Head positions in his own house. Interesting.

"You won't," Draco assured her. "Will you start over?"

**ooo**

The opening feast was vastly different without Dumbledore leading it. Snape was short, curt, and to the point, introducing the new teachers and laying down the new rules. Draco cringed when he learned that the Carrows, Amycus and Alecto, would be joining the staff. He had known that Snape had been given the position of Headmaster, but only now did he fully grasp that he Dark Lord had total control over the school.

About halfway through the meal, Draco received a slip of parchment from a small boy who could only have been a first-year. Puzzled, he opened it discreetly.

_Draco – _

_Come to my office immediately following dinner. The password is leirion._

_S.S._

He frowned, stuffed the note into an inner pocket. and continued his meal. Since promising Draco that he would help him, Snape hadn't spoken to him once. Granted, Draco only saw him when he came around for meetings, but even then, he didn't spare Draco a glance. It was terribly frustrating, as Draco had kept up his end. He sought the company of his parents, his father in particular, as often as possible in order to pick up any scraps of information he thought Snape might want. He had ten sections of parchment, two feet each, full of detailed notes. Perhaps Snape would want them tonight?

After dinner, Draco shrugged Pansy off and solemnly made his way to the Headmaster's office. He had only been there a couple of times before and always when he had gotten in trouble. Dumbledore had only ever been understanding and fair. Draco's stomach threatened to return his meal if he continued to think about the old man.

"Leirion," Draco muttered to the gargoyle.

He knocked on the door, and Snape admitted him.

"Please, take a seat," Snape instructed, pouring two cups of team. He set one of them before Draco and began sipping from his own. "What do you think of the changes?" Snape asked.

Draco added a lump of sugar to his tea and took a swallow. "Interesting," he said, his thoughts turning to Professor Burbage, the former … the _late_ Professor of Muggle Studies. Draco took another large drink, hoping to quash the image that had been burned into his brain that awful night. Then his head felt thick and foggy, and …

Then Draco yawned and opened his eyes, squinting in the light. A glance out the window told him the sun had set, but just a second ago, it had been light. "Did I … did I fall asleep?" Draco asked.

"No," said Snape, who was standing by the window now, where moments earlier he had been sitting at his desk. "I used Veritaserum on you."

Draco looked at his tea cup, now sitting on Snape's desk, half-consumed. "You … why?"

"I knew that you could trust me, but you did not," Snape stated, returning to sit at his desk. "I had to be sure that I could trust you, and this was the most expedient way."

"Trust me?" Draco repeated. "About what?"

Snape didn't answer, only put his wand to his head and whispered a spell. When he removed his wand, a thin wisp of silvery-fluid followed, attached to the tip of his wand. Snape then pulled the wisp fully from his head and deposited it into a basin that shimmered with a blue light.

"Would you like to see what we discussed?" Snape asked, putting his wand away.

"Uh … sure." Draco had no idea what he was agreeing to.

"Good," said Snape. "Just touch the liquid in the Pensieve, and I will follow you through."

Draco hesitantly reached his hand out, pausing to glance at his Professor and long-time mentor before dipping a single finger into the substance. Instantly, he was pulled in and then dropped into the same room, a few feet from Snape's desk. He looked around and then started when he saw himself sitting in the seat opposite Snape. Neither his other self nor Snape paid him any attention.

"This is my memory of our conversation," said Snape's voice behind him. "They … well, _we_ cannot hear or see us."

Draco jumped. "You startled me."

"Just watch," said Snape, moving to look around the room.

Draco turned his attention to the memory, already in progress.

"What is your name?" Snape asked.

"Draco Abraxas Malfoy."

Draco moved closer to his memory-self and saw that his eyes were glazed over and he stared unseeingly ahead, not at Snape, not at anything.

"How old are you, and when is your birthday?"

"Seventeen. June 5."

"Where is your birthmark located?" Snape continued.

"My inner right thigh."

Draco glanced at Snape, slightly embarrassed that he had been asked that question, and more so that Snape knew the answer.

"Did you know that your mother and I took an Unbreakable Vow before you began school last year?"

Draco's eyes widened as his memory-self gave a monotone negative response. "What?"

"Just watch," Snape drawled.

"Did you willingly take the Mark?" the memory-Snape asked.

"Yes."

"Do you still wish to be a Death Eater?"

Draco gaped at the memory, anxious for what he would answer. The memory-Draco didn't even hesitate, if such a thing was possible under the Truth Serum.

"No."

Draco glanced at Snape, who was still perusing the office. Snape was one of the Dark Lord's most trusted and revered followers. If he shared this conversation with anyone, it could get Draco in a lot of trouble. Or killed. No one expressed any other sentiment than that they wanted to follow the Dark Lord above all else.

"Are you interested in taking action against the Dark Lord?"

Draco's eyes widened, and the blood drained from his face. Snape was trying to get him to say something that would amount to treason against the Dark Lord. He would be killed for sure! Why? Why would he—

"Yes. I don't know," said memory-Draco.

"I take it you haven't given this course much thought."

"No."

"Why is that?" Snape asked.

"There is no other course," his memory-self replied. "I'm in now, and everyone knows that no one gets out."

"I wasn't suggesting that you would … leave his services," memory-Snape replied slowly. "Have you been collecting information this summer, as I instructed?"

"Yes, sir."

The memory-Snape nodded, pleased. "That is good, Draco. How do you feel about continuing this task through the school year and reporting to me on a regular basis?"

"That would be fine."

"That is enough," said Snape, taking Draco's arm firmly in hand.

As the vision swirled, Draco saw the memory-Snape tap his memory-self with his wand. Then they were back in Snape's office, the windows once again dark. Draco sank heavily into his chair and put his head in his hands.

"Are you going to turn me in?" he asked dejectedly.

He heard the sound of Snape's robes rustling as the older man spun around to look at him. "What gives you the idea I would do such a thing?"

"You … those questions!" Draco replied, feeling as though the room were shrinking around him. "What else would you want to do with that information?"

Snape rolled his eyes. "You are forgetting everything that led up to that conversation, Draco." Then, in a lower voice, he added, "You and Potter are not so dissimilar." Louder, "Neither of you _listen_."

Draco frowned, trying to recall what they had said before. "You wanted to know if you could trust me."

"Exactly. If I had asked you those same questions without the Truth Serum, you would have been afraid to give me the truthful answer. I could have sensed your dishonesty through Legilimency, but our time would still have been wasted. Now I know that you are at least somewhat willing to work against him."

"Sir," said Draco, shifting in his seat, unable to get comfortable. "Why … why would you want me to do that?"

Snape peered down at him for a moment and then sat down, folding his hands on the desk. "Draco. I understand the position you were in last year. I know that you do not wish to be where you are right now—in the Dark Lord's service. Not only are you too young for such a terrible burden, but clearly you aren't cut out for the job."

Draco opened his mouth to protest and then shut it again. At one time, he would have vehemently argued that he did, in fact, want to work for the Dark Lord, and that he had what was necessary to be an efficient soldier in the Dark army. Now, however, he knew that it wasn't so, and for some reason didn't mind Snape knowing the truth.

"You've been forced to grow up early," Snape said. "And you have a maturity now that few of your schoolmates share. To them, it's still a glorious concept to be one of the Dark Lord's chosen." He looked intently at Draco. "You have a choice. You may either work against the Dark Lord or for him; there is truly no in between. If you are not actively resisting, then you are allowing his reign of terror to continue."

Draco's jaw dropped, and once again, he quickly shut it, staring in amazement at the newest Headmaster. "Sir?" he began. "I … I don't understand." What Snape had just said would get him killed, no questions asked, if Draco repeated it to anyone.

_I knew that you could trust me, but you did not__. I had to be sure that I could trust you._

Snape waited patiently, watching Draco while his mind spun in a hundred different directions. No matter which path he took, they all led to the same conclusion. "You really _are_ a spy?"

"Yes," Snape said simply.

Draco felt as though he might lose his dinner after all. How? … Why? … What … what about … "Dumbledore?" Draco gasped.

Snape sighed. "He knew about your duty as well. I was entrusted with the task of making sure you did not complete yours. He wanted you to have the chance to decide your future without the impossible circumstances laid on you."

The room suddenly felt oppressively hot, and Draco looked frantically for something to do about it. Upon spotting a bin in the corner, he bolted from his seat and retched until there was nothing left inside him. When he'd finished, Snape handed him a wet rag and a glass of water.

Draco accepted both and wiped his mouth, then downed the water, feeling his body begin to cool after being sick. He knew he would soon be shivering, and he remained seated on the floor, moving away from the bin and pulling his knees to his chest.

The old man had known. Well, he had said as much that night on the tower, but he truly had wanted Draco to have another chance, a different future than the one that had kept him up night after night.

_Draco … you are not a killer …_

He had a choice now, just as he had on the tower that night. He had almost made the right one then, but it would have been too late even if he had. Now …

"What must I do?"

**ooo**

**End Notes**: Okay, okay, the last line is totally from "Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring." I even picture Draco closing his hand around a solid gold ring. Well, maybe not. :D

Many thanks to Shug, pokeystar and elyaeru for the excellent betas!


	3. I'm Not Myself, You See

* * *

**A/N**: Remember: First part is present, second part is past.

**Disclaimer**: Harry Potter and his world belong to JK Rowling. I write to learn. No money is being made.

**Chapter 3**** – I'm Not Myself, You See**

Hermione waited more patiently this time for the lift that took her, the guard, and her companion to the level of the prison where they would speak to Draco. The ride was slow and silent, giving her a moment to think about her last conversation with Ron.

He had not been pleased to learn that she would be visiting Draco again.

"_Why are you wasting your time on that … that despicable Death Eater?" he shouted. "Why are you trying to help him? You should be just as thrilled as Harry and __me that he's right where he belongs!"_

_Hermione sighed, exasperated. "This is the right thing to do, Ron. If he doesn't deserve to be in prison, and I can help, then I'm going to."_

"_He does deserve it!" Ron's voice hadn't dropped a single decibel. "I could have _died_ because of him. Have you forgotten that?"_

"_No," she said, her patience wearing thin. "But we know all about that now. He didn't want to do what he was doing, and he certainly didn't target you."_

"_I don't care! That pasty, filthy scum deserves to rot for the rest of his pitiful life."_

"_How can you say that? He helped the Order! Justice demands that all evidence should be presented, even that which might, Merlin forbid, paint him in a good light." Hermione crossed her arms._

"_I don't care," Ron repeated stubbornly. "His family has caused—"_

"_His family will be punished, I'm sure," Hermione interrupted. "_HE_ does not deserve life in prison!"_

"_How can you forget how horrible he was to us?" Ron demanded angrily. "You, especially! He called you offensive names, made fun of you, and yet you're the first to line up to free the git!"_

"_That was a long time ago, Ron."_

"_Not that long! Just a year, Hermione. One year."_

"_It was a war ago," she said quietly. This was the closest she had ever come to telling someone about what Draco had done for her, but she couldn't. It might give Ron pause, but in the end, even saving her life wouldn't change his mind. He, much like Draco, was very stubborn and stuck in his ways._

"_He should stay in prison," Ron said through clenched teeth, his eyes flashing with anger._

"_It's not right, Ron," Hermione gritted out. "He did good things during the war, and he should be recognized for it just like you and me!"_

"_I do not care," Ron said. "Nothing he could have done outweighs all the rotten things he's done."_

_Hermione gasped and shook her head, astonished at the truth behind Ron's anger. "You don't like him, I know that. But would you condemn him to life in prison, at seventeen, for a few stupid mistakes?"_

"_Yes!" Ron shouted without really thinking through her question. "You said it yourself—he is foul, and loathsome." He tried to take her hand, but she jerked it back. This only made him angrier. "The world will be better off without him."_

_Again, the truth almost jumped from Hermione's lips, but she restrained it. She could not, however, prevent the tears that leapt into her eyes. Without knowing it, her friend had said that Draco's act of saving her life was not enough to earn him any merit. _

"_Is that really what you believe?" she whispered, pain and disbelief in her voice._

_Ron faltered, confusion flickering through his eyes. "I … I just …" Then his shoulders slumped. "I don't want you to go see him. I don't trust him, and I don't like him."_

"_He's in prison, Ron. __There are guards everywhere, and his hands are bound. He can't hurt me." That wasn't entirely true; his words could certainly sting if he used them as weapons, but she didn't think he would. Not anymore. _

_He rubbed his head, mussing his hair, something he always did when he was nervous. "I just think … well, this … thing you're doing. Might not turn out so good. He's just using you to get out, saying what you want him to hear."_

_Hermione frowned. She had no idea what he was talking about, but then it dawned on her. He was jealous. She was choosing to spend a portion of her free time to help Malfoy, and he thought there was more going on. Ron thought that Draco was trying to sweet talk her into helping him, pretending to care about her in order to get what he wanted. It was absolute rubbish, of course. Nothing could be further from the truth. _

_If Ron knew just how much of her mental energy had been spent on Draco Malfoy already, he would probably Disarm her and lock her away to prevent her from ever seeing him again._

"Here we are," said the guard as the lift jerked to a halt. He didn't follow her into the meeting room, just held open the door.

Hermione met Draco's eyes for an instant before his were diverted to the hooded and cloaked figure who had come with her. He frowned and then looked back at Hermione, a questioning look on his face.

She began, "Malfoy, this is—"

"You may call me Meda, Draco." Andromeda Tonks removed her hood, allowing Draco to lay eyes on her for the first time in both their lives. Her short, black hair was streaked with red, orange, and white strands. She smiled warmly.

Draco's frown deepened. "You must be my Aunt Andromeda," he said finally.

"Meda," she corrected. "I cannot tell you how happy I am to finally see you, Draco."

"Shall we sit?" Hermione asked, indicating the two empty chairs. Once seated, she said, "Andromeda has a few things to say, Malfoy."

"All right," he said, turning his full attention on his Aunt.

Andromeda reached into her robes and pulled out a stack of letters wrapped in twine and laid it on the table. "Do you recognize these?" she asked.

Draco hesitated before reaching both hands out to pull the letters closer. Then he undid the twine and opened the top envelope. As he read, surprise registered on his face. "I … I didn't write this," he said, looking up at Hermione.

"We know," she said. "Snape did."

"I found these letters among my son-in-law's things," Andromeda explained. "I didn't know what they were, so I took them to the Order."

Draco nodded, then stumbled over his next words. "I-I was sorry to hear about my cousin and her husband."

Andromeda smiled kindly but tears pricked her eyes.

"I knew what they were immediately," Hermione said. "Snape had been writing to Remus with the information you provided, using your name, so that you would get the credit. I saw him write one of the letters, in its entirety, in one of the memories, after you had given him some information you had learned. That very letter is in the stack."

Draco stared at the letters in poorly concealed amazement. "So … what you're saying is, there is proof that I was helping the Order."

"Yes!" said Hermione, beaming.

"I … wow." He turned to his Aunt. "I cannot thank you enough for doing this. You don't even know me, and … well, I doubt I would have been very accepting of your help not too long ago."

Andromeda smiled, and it seemed to Hermione as though it lit the entire room.

"Your mother is the only family I have left," she said softly. "I was happy to be able to help, and Hermione has just been wonderful with all of this."

Draco glanced at Hermione. "Yes, she has."

Hermione fought a threatening blush.

Draco shook his head, chuckling. "I never imagined I would get out of here. I'd basically given up hope. And now …"

"Now, we have to get all the evidence lined up," said Hermione, her tone all-business. "The memories have been authenticated. We'll present these letters, featuring the one in Snape's memory, and together with the testimonies from Harry, myself, Andromeda, and others, I really think you've got a chance."

"Wait," said Draco. "Potter? What's he got to do with this?"

"Well, he's going to present Snape's good character. At this point, most people know that Snape was really working for the Order … or, rather, Dumbledore, but we need to tailor that into how it applies to you."

"Potter agreed to this?" Draco asked suspiciously.

Hermione bit her lip. "Not yet, no. But he will, I assure you. Don't worry about Harry—he will be there."

"What are, um, you going to say?" he asked.

"I will be discussing the memories and how they pertain to these letters. Andromeda will introduce the letters." She knew he was referring to him saving her life. "That is all."

Draco considered her for a moment and then said, "I am okay with you doing … whatever has to be done."

"Oh!" Hermione said, her eyes widening. "I will certainly keep that in mind."

Then Andromeda spoke. "Your mother will be there, Draco. She was released under house arrest a few days ago."

"Yeah?" he asked, incredulous. "How is that possible?"

"Harry," replied Andromeda. "Apparently, your mother played a significant role in preserving his life the night of the final battle."

"That's putting it mildly," said Hermione. "She basically saved his life." She sent Draco a meaningful look.

"How?" Draco asked, leaning forward in his seat.

"It's a long story," Hermione replied. "I'll have to tell you another time. Our time in here is almost up."

Just then, a knock sounded on the door. "Five minutes!" called the guard.

"I'm going to hold you to that," Draco said, giving Hermione an awkward smile.

"It was wonderful to meet you, Draco," Andromeda said, standing. "I look forward to getting to know you better. I've already seen your mother, and she sends her love."

"When you see her again, please tell her I love her as well, and I hope to see her soon."

"I will. Until we meet again, I bid you farewell." Andromeda bent her head in parting and left the room without another word.

Hermione hadn't expected that but didn't want to rush after her without saying goodbye to Draco. That would be strange. They stood opposite each other across the table, neither knowing just what to say.

The guard knocked again, and Hermione jumped slightly. "So. I reckon I'll see you … soon," she said, collecting the letters and tucking them away.

"Right," said Draco. "Just another nine days until my trial begins."

They stared at each other for another few seconds, and then Hermione said, "Well, bye." She turned and walked out without waiting for a response.

Andromeda was waiting for her. "The guard is by the lift," she said as they began to walk. "I cannot thank you enough for bringing me with you."

"It was no problem," Hermione insisted. "I'm glad you got to meet your only nephew."

"He's very handsome, if I may say so," said Andromeda, giving Hermione a smile. "Though, perhaps I am a little biased."

Hermione's stomach flopped pleasantly, and it was all she could do not to groan out loud. The last thing she needed was to feel something for Malfoy; however, part of her admitted that she had blown past 'feeling' for him a long time ago.

* * *

Head down, eyes and ears open. Don't call attention to myself, blend in. Easier said than done, Draco thought as he headed to his first class of the day. All of the students were now required to attend Muggle Studies, where Alecto Carrow would be teaching.

He sat in a clump of Slytherins, Pansy on one side and Goyle on the other.

"Muggles," began Alecto, "are filth. They are like rodents. They carry diseases, multiply like Weasleys, and spread their germs everywhere. We will begin this class by learning of these diseases and how to avoid catching them."

Draco took a deep breath and readied himself to take notes.

Halfway through the class, Padma Patil, a pretty girl in Ravenclaw, raised her hand to dispute something Alecto had said. Alecto grinned wickedly and hexed the girl. Patil cried out in shock and pain, and Draco could see a burn mark on her arm.

"There will be no discussion of the facts presented in this class," said Alecto gleefully. "If you have a problem with that, you will be dealt with similarly. Now, as I was saying …"

Goyle leaned over and whispered, "That was incredible! Teachers can hex students? This year is going to be bloody brilliant!"

Draco forced a laugh and returned to his notes. The days when he found joy in the suffering of others felt like a different lifetime. How was it possible that in less than a year, he had changed so drastically? He would have to make an effort not to let anyone pick up on it, or he risked drawing the kind of attention Snape warned him about.

The rest of his classes were interesting, to say the least. Arithmancy, Ancient Runes, and Potions were conducted much as they had been under Dumbledore, with Slughorn's elevated nerves the only exception. In Transfiguration and Charms, the Slytherin students treated the teachers horribly, knowing they would not be punished for it. Draco attempted to join in, but his heart wasn't in it.

Defense Against the Dark Arts was an entirely different matter.

"In this class," drawled Amycus Carrow, "not only will you be learning about the Dark Arts, but you will be learning how to use them." He smirked stupidly at the cheer that rose from the Slytherin side of the room. "First up: the Cruciatus. This will be used for punishment this year instead of detention. It'll waste less time, in the long run."

Draco's blood ran cold. He had only attempted the curse once, and that encounter had turned out rather disastrously for him.

"All of you will be required to learn this spell," he said, his eyes falling and narrowing on Draco. "And you _will_ perform it in front of the class in order to move on to the next spell."

Without conscious thought, Draco turned his head slightly in the direction where Granger had always sat with respect to his usual seat in Potions: behind and to his left. It was strange, not seeing her hand flapping in the air, ready to protest despite the consequences to herself or her friends. It was probably a good thing for Mudbloods that they weren't allowed in school this year.

**ooo**

Draco went that night after dinner to Snape's office and told the Headmaster what Amycus had said.

"I don't think I can do that curse," he said agitatedly. "I've not got it in me to really mean it. Aunt Bellatrix thought my progress this summer was horrendous."

Snape looked almost bored. "Pretend the subject is Potter," he drawled. "Surely then you won't have any problem."

Draco frowned in confusion. "You … you want me to use the Cruciatus?"

"You have no choice, Draco. Spells of this nature—Dark spells—are what the Dark Lord wants the students here to learn. He has chosen this curriculum; there is nothing you or I can do to change that. All you can do is make the most of the situation."

"How do I do that? Sir."

"Do as you're told," Snape replied.

"Yes, but … I don't think I'll be able to use Potter as proper motivation anymore.'

Snape slowly turned and for the first time, looked into Draco's eyes, one eyebrow cocked. "Oh? And why is that?"

"I guess I don't exactly hate him anymore, sir."

"I see," said Snape, who looked as though he was slowly chewing on Draco's revelation. "What about Granger?"

Despite his best efforts, Draco felt heat creeping into his cheeks at the mention of Hermione. "Her either."

"Why?" Snape asked, suddenly far too curious for Draco's liking. "What happened?"

"N-nothing I wish to talk about," Draco replied.

"Fascinating," said Snape. Unlike most instances where he used the word, this time he sounded as though he meant it. He studied Draco, as if the information he sought could be found written on his face. "Tell me why you no longer despise her."

"No," Draco said firmly. Even though he could trust Snape with this, he didn't want to reveal the truth. That night had been … extraordinary. He and Granger had formed a bond, and he wasn't entirely sure it had been dissolved. He didn't want to risk anything, and if Snape was still working for the Order, then it would be possible for word to get out.

Draco's abject refusal seemed to intrigue Snape even more. "I can, of course, retrieve the information through Legilimancy, but I would rather you tell me yourself."

"Aunt Bella has taught me to guard my mind. I was a very quick study." He didn't know why he was engaging in a kind of power play with the vastly more experienced and skilled wizard, but he would protect that night with Granger with everything he had.

After a few moments of intense scrutiny, Snape said, "It is no matter, for now. I would like to hear the story though, Draco. I'm intrigued at what could cause this change of heart. The other is understandable, but this … this is something else entirely." Then he shrugged, his manner flippant. "There is time for that, of course."

"Yes, well, I still don't know what to do about this … situation, sir," said Draco.

"I believe that is easily remedied. For now, Amycus is most interested in your performance. You are Lucius Malfoy's son, Bellatrix's nephew, and you are the only student at present to have been given the Mark. A certain level of ruthlessness is to be expected from one with such … credentials."

Snape began to slowly pace his office. "However, you were also given a task that would have cemented your place in the Death Eater's circle, and you failed—in front of me, the Carrows, and Greyback. To say that you have something to prove is an understatement. You have quite a potential reputation, with blood from both your father and your mother's family. I see two paths before you."

He stopped pacing and put his hands on the back of his chair, fixing his eyes on Draco. "One: you rise to meet the expectations of those around you—and not only your teachers. Your fellow classmates heard you brag about your task for the better part of a year, and they anticipate follow-up."

"I don't want that, Professor. I-I don't want to be a-a Death Eater." It was the first time he had said it aloud, save the one time he'd been under the Truth Serum.

"That leaves you with only one path. For years, you excelled in playing the part of the whiny, spoiled, arrogant, and cowardly aristocrat. I'm not sure how much of that was the act and what was real, but I believe the cowardly part, especially, can go a long way toward relieving you of the spotlight. In addition, someone will step up and fill the role of 'most promising Death-Eater-to-be.' You won't be given the difficult assignments or asked to do anything very important."

Draco frowned. He couldn't deny being spoiled, and arrogance came with his station and his bloodline. It had been ingrained in him that he was superior since he was a small boy. He bristled at being called whiny but in retrospect, could see Snape's point. He was, undoubtedly, a coward. At the same time, he had, in the past, exaggerated certain things in order to achieve a desired end. Case in point, the injury to his arm in third year after the incident with the Hippogriff.

Though he didn't relish perpetuating the idea that he was a coward, it was, indeed, the better alternative.

"The more sniveling, the better," Snape said with a chuckle.

Draco scowled. "Why is this so amusing to you? _Sir_?"

"It's not so amusing as much as ironic."

Draco waited, but Snape didn't seem interested in expounding. "I'm afraid I still don't understand."

Snape sighed. "I have watched you grow up since you were a baby, Draco. You have gone from that spoiled, arrogant, and whiny child to a young man who is willing to go against what he has been taught all of his life in order to do the right thing. You have finally grown out of your cowardice, only to have to put it on again as an act so that you might carry out your subterfuge." He smirked. "At least you haven't fallen too out of practice."

Snape's words were both complimentary and derisive, but it was more approval than Draco had ever received from his father.

"You really believe I'm doing the … _right_ thing?" Draco asked.

"Indeed, I do," Snape replied. "How have you been sleeping since arriving here?"

Draco frowned, surprised at the question. "Just fine, why?"

"How does the quality of your restfulness compare to last year?"

"It's much better. I have no problems sleeping, no more nightmares or waking up in the middle of the night screaming. I'd say it's a vast improvement."

Snape nodded sagely. "I have been leading a duplicitous life for nearly twenty years, and in those twenty years, not once have I lost sleep wondering if what I'm doing is the right thing."

Draco said nothing, letting his mind focus on the crackling sounds from the fireplace.

"Listen to me, Draco," said Snape after a few minutes. "I will only say this once. What you are going to do this year—spying on the Dark Lord's servants—will not be an easy task. It will not be glamorous, you may learn things that upset and shock you, there may be some danger involved, and there's a chance no one will ever know what you're doing."

"You mean, at the end of … well, the war, I suppose … people won't know about me spying?" He stared hard at the Headmaster.

"There is a chance, Draco. No one can foresee all possibilities. You, right now, are the only person alive who knows the truth about me."

Without either of them realizing it, the fire had dulled to embers. Snape's face was hidden in shadows, the soft light showing a man aged beyond his years.

"I only told you," he continued, "because I see a lot of myself in you. When I was your age, the Dark Arts fascinated me, and I let my interest get carried away and as a result …" Snape swallowed hard. "Someone that I cared very deeply for was lost. I don't want that to happen to you. I was given a lifeline, and I took it. And so, I offered one to you."

"Thank you, sir," Draco said quietly. He didn't know how long he had been in Snape's office, but the castle seemed silent, like an enormous underground cave. "I reckon I should turn in."

"Yes. As Head Boy, you are allowed in the halls later than other students, but it wouldn't do to be seen by the Carrows," said Snape.

Draco stood and made his way to the door. "Thank you again, sir. Goodnight."

**ooo**

**End Notes**: Thanks for reading! Another chapter up next Friday! Many thanks to Shug, Pokeystar, and elyaeru for the excellent betas!


	4. Curiouser and Curiouser

* * *

How doth the little crocodile  
Improve his shining tail,  
And pour the waters of the Nile  
On every golden scale!

"Alice in Wonderland", Lewis Carroll

**A/N**: Remember: First part is present, second part is past.

**Disclaimer**: Harry Potter and his world belong to JK Rowling. I write to learn. No money is being made.

**Chapter 4**** – Curiouser and Curiouser**

Hermione went to the Burrow after parting ways with Andromeda at the outgoing Floo station in the Ministry. With just nine days before Malfoy's trial, she had yet to secure a prime witness for his defense: Harry.

She found him sitting outside in the garden with Ginny, talking closely, and she hated to interrupt.

"Hey, Harry, Ginny," she said, smiling at the pair.

Ginny waved. "Hi, Hermione."

Harry looked at her knowingly. "Hey."

"I was wondering if I could have a word with you, Harry," she said.

He sighed and withdrew his arm from around Ginny's shoulders. "Sure. I figured this was coming eventually."

Ginny kissed Harry on the cheek and left them alone.

Hermione took her spot on the bench, though not as close to Harry as Ginny had been. "You know what I'm going to ask?"

"Yeah. It just makes sense," he said.

"So? Will you do it? Will you testify for him?" Hermione asked, prepared to give the speech she had been rehearsing for several days.

Harry scratched his head and then ruffled his hair. "I … Are you sure about this, Hermione?"

"Of course I am," she said. "It's the right thing to do. He helped the Order and Snape, after everything else he'd done. The Ministry should be going after people who really deserve it. Malfoy is in the spotlight because of his father. Others have done far worse, but the attention isn't on them."

"It just seems … I dunno, maybe I've been listening to Ron too much."

Hermione bristled. "What do you mean?"

Harry shrugged. "He seems to think there's something else going on, that Malfoy is using you to get him out of prison."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "That's ridiculous," she huffed. "He hasn't said or done anything to that end, hasn't made me any promises for once he gets out. _I _went to him, all on my own. I'm sorry that Ron can't accept that."

"Yeah, that's another thing." Harry hesitated. "Why _did_ you go to him?"

"We've been over this, Harry," Hermione said warningly. "I found evidence that showed a different side of the story. It was my duty to bring it to light."

Harry sighed. "I know, I know. Ron's just upset that you seem to have brushed him aside after … you know."

She did know, and she blushed at the reminder of the kiss. "I haven't, exactly," she said. "It's all very complicated."

"Well, I think you two need to talk. I will testify for Malfoy," Harry said, "but only if you talk to Ron. Today. He deserves to know what's going on."

Hermione nodded. "You're right. It needs to be done. Thank you, Harry."

"I'm not doing it for you," he said sternly. "I'm doing it because, as you said, it's the right thing to do."

"Still. Thank you." She smiled gratefully at him.

A shadow fell on them, and Hermione looked up to see Ron standing before them, his hands in his pockets and a nervous smile on his face.

Harry stood. "I'll see you around."

When he was gone, Ron took his seat but wouldn't look at Hermione. "What's going on?" he asked.

Hermione hated the way his voice was edged with pain and confusion. "Are you here to apologize for being a git earlier?"

His head whipped around to face her, and he was glaring. He looked as though a few things entered his head to say, and he dismissed each in turn. Finally, he ended on, "No. I mean, I wasn't a git earlier. I'm just looking out for you, Hermione. Malfoy is evil and always will be. I don't want you to be hurt further by him."

Hermione sighed. "I don't need you to look out for me, Ron. I'm quite capable of taking care of myself."

"I know, I know! I wasn't saying otherwise. I just thought … after … you know, that I would be allowed to look after you. A little," he added hastily.

"Ron, can you even say out loud what happened between us?" she asked.

He turned a bright shade of red and turned his head forward. "We … or rather, you … eh, well …" He trailed off.

"I kissed you," Hermione stated frankly. "Honestly, Ron, what's the big deal?"

"It's a very big deal," he said defensively. "We'd never done that before, though I'd wanted to, I just never … did." He winced at his own words. "But I want to, Hermione. I want to again. I liked it. I … I like you."

Hermione had been waiting almost five years to hear those words spoken by him, and now that the time had come, she felt … disappointed, even though she had already concluded that she no longer felt strongly for Ron. His confession didn't send her heart pounding or her palms sweating, nor did she strongly desire a repeat of their kiss. This realization was hard to take, but it would be even harder to explain. She just hoped their friendship would withstand it.

"Oh, Ron," she said, biting her lip with a sympathetic frown. "I … I don't know what to say."

He looked at her questioningly. "I don't know what you mean. Wouldn't you say that you liked me too?"

Hermione couldn't look at him, so instead she stared at her hands. "I wish I could say that," she forced out. "I really do. You have no idea how much."

When he didn't say anything for a few moments, she turned to him. He was frowning deeply, staring at the ground, his arms resting on his knees and his red hair bright in the afternoon sun. "Ron?"

"So, you don't, then. Is that it?" His voice was full of anger. "_You_ kissed _me_, you know."

"I know, and I'm so sorry!" she rushed. "I think it had to happen, though. We'd been through so much, we've both changed so much, and you left Harry and me alone when things got too difficult! I did like you once, very much, but that started to fade. I don't know when, but after you left, that's when I knew it could never work between us. The kiss … was the heat of the moment, it was you finally getting something I had been trying for years to get you to understand, and I just … reacted. I'm sorry, Ron."

He hadn't taken his gaze from the grass at his feet through her entire speech. After another few moments of silence, he looked up, toward the woods beyond the Weasley property. When he spoke, his words broke. "So that's it, then?"

"Ron—"

"No, Hermione. You've said enough. I get it." With that, he walked away, leaving her alone on the bench.

* * *

After his last class of the week, Draco rushed to his private room, shutting the portrait behind him with a relieved sigh. He had made it through another week without drawing any suspicion, by carrying on as Snape had instructed. He paled whenever he was asked to perform an Unforgivable, his hands shook, and most of the time he couldn't even get the words out before the class laughed and someone shoved him out of the way, eager to show the teacher his or her prowess.

They had moved past the Cruciatus and on to the Imperius. Amycus seemed to take great pleasure in watching his students force each other to do things they would never do otherwise. It was disgusting, and in those instances, Draco didn't have to pretend to be too sick to participate.

He had lost the respect of his friends, but he didn't really care. Crabbe and Goyle seemed to relish the Unforgivables, the Cruciatus especially. They readily volunteered to mete out punishment and did so with unchecked bloodlust in their eyes. It frightened Draco to see them enjoy the pain they caused.

Pansy still clung to him, months into the year, but even she was having a hard time acting interested in him. Draco suspected she was only doing it because she hoped to marry him and gain access to his inheritance. It certainly wasn't that she cared about him. He knew she was spending copious amounts of her free time with Zabini and Nott, and they weren't engaging in academic pursuits. She made a show of trying to conceal the evidence of her extracurricular activity, but the attention she garnered from other blokes and the jealousy from her schoolmates ensured she did a poor job of it.

The only person Draco felt like he could talk to was Daphne. She was one of the few Slytherins … two, actually … who didn't jump at the chance to punish her fellow schoolmates. When he had questioned her about it, she had shrugged and said that as Head Girl, she should be approachable. Students shouldn't have to worry about facing the end of her wand if they said something she didn't like.

He agreed and added that to his set of reasons for not using the Unforgivables. Daphne, alone, didn't seem to define his reticence as cowardice. They started eating and studying together, working hard to fulfill their duties as Head students.

One evening, while meeting with Snape, Draco mentioned her.

Snape smirked. "What do you think of my choice for Head Girl?"

Draco nodded in approval. "Daphne is great. She takes her position seriously and works hard. I admit, I was surprised when I learned it was her. Though, without Granger around, she makes good sense."

Snape threw a scrutinizing look his way. "Granger? That reminds me. You haven't told me what happened with her. I still want to know."

"I won't tell you," Draco said firmly. "Why did you pick Daphne?"

Snape didn't answer right away, just continued watching Draco as though he was a very interesting code he was trying to decipher. "I knew she wasn't like the others in your year. You and she are very like-minded. I had hoped that you would find … comfort … in each other." Snape trailed off, allowing his last thought to linger in the air.

It took a moment, but then Draco understood. "C-comfort, Sir? You were setting us up?"

Snape shrugged uninterestedly and tended to a cauldron that he had simmering in one corner of the room. "If the situation presented, I had hoped you would take advantage."

Draco gaped at the Headmaster. Sure, he had enjoyed getting to know Daphne better. He felt he could be more himself around her, that he didn't have to pretend. It was a nice feeling, but he had never looked at her as anything more than a friend. At least, not seriously. He was constantly on edge, always looking over his shoulder. He couldn't relax enough to consider a relationship, even a casual one. Stress had a way of dampening his drive. And the few times he had thought of Daphne that way, Granger popped into his head and that had completely turned him off.

"That is my business, not yours," Draco snapped.

"I merely put the two of you in favorable conditions. What you do with them is, as you said, none of my business," said Snape smoothly.

Over the next few weeks, Draco started seeing Daphne differently, and he cursed Snape. He didn't need to be thinking about another girl. His thoughts already drifted to Granger more often than he liked.

Then, one night, they were studying together for an Arithmancy exam, and she kissed him unexpectedly. He hesitated, his thoughts whirring with indecision, and she pulled away.

"I-I'm sorry," she muttered, and she began gathering her things.

"No, don't apologize," he said, taking her arm and stopping her movements.

She gave him a defeated smile. "I thought … that you were interested."

Draco blew air through his lips and shook his head. He wasn't sure what he wanted or why he hadn't kissed Daphne back. She was a beautiful girl, kind and charming, and Snape had been right; they did have similar interests. But … Merlin help him, Granger had been imprinted on his brain. Ever since the night he had saved her life, he couldn't stop thinking about her, wondering where she was, if she was safe … if she was with Weasley.

"I … don't know what's going on with me," he said honestly. "Sometimes, I am, but then other times …"

"Is there someone else? Is it Pansy?" Daphne asked.

His eyes widened. "Pansy? Merlin, no! Not a chance." He shuddered at the thought.

Daphne laughed. "I'm glad to hear that. She's really getting on my nerves this year, bragging about her conquests, as though Theo or Blaise are anything to brag about."

Draco chuckled, then he scowled at the thought of Blaise. Every time he saw the other Slytherin, Draco had to resist the urge to strangle him. Not only had he nearly killed Granger the year before, but Blaise was one of the students who jumped at the chance to enact punishment. He had never been satisfactorily punished for almost killing Granger; in fact, he didn't even remember the incident, thanks to a well-placed Memory Charm.

But Draco couldn't forget. He had a lot of nightmares, and reliving the night Granger almost died was a frequent one. Only, instead of saving her, something always went wrong. Blaise read his thoughts and stopped him, or Greg was quicker than Draco had anticipated. In every scenario, Draco was forced to watch as his three former friends inflicted the worst kind of pain on the girl he had once wanted to hate with all of his might.

"Are you okay?" Daphne asked.

Draco realized he had let his thoughts surface in his expression. His jaw and fists were clenched, and his eyes narrowed. He forced himself to relax. "Yeah. Fine."

"Is it me?" Daphne asked quietly.

"No," he said quickly. "I swear. You … you're amazing, and I wish I could relax and just … be with you. But I can't, not right now. Maybe after …" He trailed off, imagining what life would be like after the war. With Snape's help, he had a chance at something normal.

She smiled. "After sounds all right."

_I hope we both get to see the other side of this._

Draco closed his eyes and groaned again. Granger couldn't do this, she couldn't control him. Especially when she didn't even know the power she wielded. He looked at Daphne and made a decision.

In an instant, he had closed the distance between them and was kissing her fiercely. She responded in kind, and soon he was breathing heavy and cursing the layers of fabric that stood between them. As he slowly unbuttoned her shirt while kissing down her neck, he thought again of Granger. Instead of turning him off, as usual, the image of her dark brown eyes clouded with desire for him only fueled the fire. He groaned and leaned in to kiss Daphne again, imagining for a moment that she was someone else.

Almost immediately, Daphne stiffened and pulled away, turning her head away from him.

He took a few moments to reorient himself with where he was. "What?" he breathed.

Daphne bit her lip. "You … n-nothing." She reached for his neck and tried to kiss him.

"No," he said, shaking his head. "What did I do?"

"You … promise you won't get angry at me?" she asked timidly.

He huffed impatiently. "Yes, fine. I promise."

Daphne's words were barely a whisper. "You said someone's name. Not mine."

Draco's blood froze. He'd been thinking about Granger … Merlin, had he said _her_ name? He couldn't conceive of anything worse happening. "Who?" he asked nervously, only partially wanting the answer.

"Well …" she began. "It was … the girl who would be here if she was here."

Draco blinked. "What? That doesn't make sense."

"Head Girl," Daphne said, exasperated. "She'd be Head Girl, if things were … normal."

Draco shut his eyes and then lay on his back. He wished the room would open up and swallow him whole, burying him and his humiliation. Of all people! Granger? Where had that come from? If anyone found out, he would be skinned alive and then tortured to within an inch of his life. He groaned, feeling a phantom shoot of pain from his last bout under the Cruciatus.

Daphne scooted over to him after putting her shirt back on. "Don't worry, Draco. I won't tell anyone, I swear."

"Are you serious?" he said, incredulous. "Why wouldn't you?"

"I have no desire to see you tortured," she said.

"Daphne, I'm awfully sorry about this. I didn't mean to. I can't even believe I did." He searched his brain for some clue about how this could have happened, and all he could come up with was that ever since he had saved her life, he had reserved a special place for her in his mind and obviously, his heart. It didn't make sense, but there it was.

"It's okay," she said quietly, avoiding his eyes. "It makes sense there's someone else."

Draco wanted to beat his head against the wall until the pounding went away.

"How … How is it her, though?" Daphne asked.

The urge to roll his eyes was nearly too great to overcome. Daphne wouldn't understand that he was rolling his eyes in frustration with himself and not at her question. It wasn't that Granger was 'someone else,' but she was, too. She was almost constantly on his mind, and he didn't know what to do about it.

Now, he only hoped he wouldn't have to deal with an entirely new facet of his … _what? Fascination? Interest? Obsession?_ … with Granger. He had officially fantasized about snogging her, and he feared he could never go back.

Draco could only shake his head. "I … truthfully don't have an answer to your question."

"I'm not asking how you could be attracted to her," Daphne said. "She's pretty and smart, and I think a lot of blokes were stupid not to take notice."

Draco gaped at her. "Seriously?"

"Absolutely," she affirmed. "But with you … I'll be honest; I thought her blood status would be an issue."

Slowly, he shook his head, shutting his eyes once more. "I can't believe I'm having this conversation."

"So you don't care, then?" she asked.

"I … it doesn't even matter," he said. "She is … that's never going to be a remote possibility. I reckon I don't care about her blood status." Not since he had her blood all over his hands and clothes, and not since the moment he realized she was just a girl. It would seem, however, that he had just taken note of the fact that she was more than 'just a girl.'

Daphne smiled. "I'm glad to hear that, Draco. I really am. I swear, no one will hear this from me. To show you I mean it, I'll confess something to you."

"Okay," Draco said.

"I had a small thing for Potter. At the end of last year. It just hit me one day, during a Quidditch match. Gryffindor wasn't even playing, but I glanced to their section and saw him. I can't explain it." She gave him a pointed look. "I would imagine you feel the same way."

"That's for sure," he said. "Except, it's not so much that I fancy her as it is blatant confusion."

Daphne nodded. "That makes sense. You'd be more resistant to the idea than I would, considering your background."

Draco scowled. "You were attracted to Potter. That's far worse, in my opinion."

She laughed. "Than a Muggle-born witch? I think they're pretty even."

"You might be right," he said with a sigh. "You don't … _still_ fancy him, do you?"

Daphne just shrugged, her eyes shining.

Draco wished that he could force himself to like Daphne, even if just for that night. It would probably help take some of the edge off, but it was too late. The mood had been ruined, and he really didn't think he could kiss her while wondering if she was imagining that he was Potter.

**ooo**

**End Notes:** Thanks for reading! Happy Friday! :) Many thanks to my wonderful betas: Shug and pokeystar! Written in response to a challenge issued by drcjsnider.


	5. Uncommon Nonsense

* * *

'Tis the voice of the lobster; I heard him declare,  
You have baked me too brown, I must sugar my hair.  
As a duck with its eyelids, so he with his nose  
Trims his belt and his buttons, and turns out his toes.

"That is different from what I used to say when I child," said the Gryphon.

"Well I never heard it before," said the Mock Turtle, "but it sounds uncommon nonsense."

** "Alice in Wonderland," Lewis Carroll**

**ooo**

**Chapter 5**** – Uncommon Nonsense**

The path from the Ministry of Magic to the wizarding prison Azkaban was now a familiar one to Hermione. As she made the trip for what she sincerely hoped was the last time, she felt a twinge of nervousness in her gut.

Malfoy's trial would begin the next day, and even though she believed he had a strong case, it wasn't guaranteed that he would be released. Harry's presence in Malfoy's defense would likely sway anyone wavering, but all it would take was one person out for revenge to poison the Wizengamot and cause them to ignore justice.

There was a guard already stationed outside the door when Hermione arrived at the room where she met with Malfoy. He made no move to stop her, nor did he give any indication that he saw her. Hermione thanked the guard who had brought her down and slowly opened the door.

What she saw surprised her: Daphne Greengrass was sitting beside Draco, their chairs and bodies touching, talking closely.

They both looked up when the door opened, and Hermione's eyes locked with Draco's for an instant before she hurried from the room, shutting the door behind her. She stared at the door for a second, her heart pounding, before heading down the hall and back to the lift.

She heard a door behind her open and shut but paid it no mind. She was about halfway to the lift when the footsteps caught up to her, and someone grabbed her arm. Hermione spun around, ready to yell at whoever had physically stopped her, only to fall dumb upon seeing Daphne standing there.

"What?" she snapped after a few moments of staring at the other woman.

"I'm finished," Daphne said, too kindly considering Hermione's attitude.

"Are you sure?" Hermione said spitefully. "I think I interrupted before you two got to the shagging portion of your visit."

Daphne blushed but held her ground. "Don't be ridiculous, Granger. You know there are other rooms for that sort of thing."

"What do you want, Greengrass?" Hermione asked, crossing her arms.

"I want you to go see him. That's why you're here, isn't it?" she replied.

"There are a few things I wanted to say before tomorrow. About his _case_." Hermione held her head high.

Daphne smirked. "Right. That's why you fled when you saw me with him."

Hermione refused to admit that Malfoy had managed to elicit yet another emotion from her: jealousy. "Since you're finished, I reckon I will go talk to him about his case."

"You do that," said Daphne with a smile, her tone once again pleasant. "I know he'll be glad to see you." Without another word, Daphne stepped around Hermione and resumed her walk to the lift.

Hermione stubbornly stood rooted to her spot until the lift had carried Daphne and the guard who had escorted her away. Then she glared at the door behind which Draco was waiting and finally walked back.

Taking a deep breath, she pushed the door open and entered the room.

Malfoy was pacing, and he stopped when he heard her. His face relaxed, and he almost smiled. "Hi."

"Hey," she said, glancing around the room as though there were interesting things to be seen in it. There weren't.

He sat in his seat, folded his hands, and watched her.

Hermione didn't move closer to the table, but she did turn her gaze on him. "So. Does, um, Daphne visit often?"

Draco shrugged. "She's been here a few times. Today she stopped by to wish me luck for tomorrow."

Hermione slowly nodded, angry at the feelings of jealousy that had furiously bubbled inside her since happening upon the other woman with Draco. She couldn't identify the moment when her interest in him had turned … impractical … but there could be no denying it, either.

"Are you going to sit?" Draco asked, his expression puzzled.

She didn't respond.

"Granger, what's going on? Why are you here?"

For some reason, the question annoyed her. She was there because she had played an integral role in the building of his case, obviously. Then, one emotion after another assaulted her, and all of the feelings related to him she had experienced over the last year came back full force. When the waves receded, she was left with anger. It occurred to her that she was very upset with him but had never been able to express that anger.

"I'm here to wish you good luck," she snapped, finally meeting his gaze.

His eyes widened and then narrowed. "You've got a funny way of going about it."

"If you get out, are you and Daphne planning a reunion celebration?" Might as well start with the most recent offense.

"What? No," Draco said, dismissing her concern. If he suspected she was jealous, he didn't let on. "Daphne is a good friend, maybe the only one I've got left."

That stung. Had Ron been right? He was only using her … No, that wasn't possible. He hadn't asked her to do any of the things she had done. "What am I, then?"

"You?" he repeated, frowning.

Hermione waited for him to answer her question, but she realized she already had it. They weren't friends, not really. They had a bond, of sorts, from when he had saved her life, and that somehow superseded their previous animosity. Yet they weren't exactly friends.

"Never mind," she said and then roughly pulled the chair out from under the table and sat across from him. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Now his bewilderment was evident. "Tell you what?"

"About helping the Order. Did you know I was really confused after what you did? It would have been nice to set my mind at ease," she said shortly.

"Confused?" he said.

"Merlin, Malfoy! You saved my life, and then only two weeks later, you let Death Eaters into the school, and Dumbledore ended up dead!" She stood again and started pacing. "I defended you fiercely to Harry. No, he's not up to anything, he couldn't be! He just saved my life! _My_ life!"

Draco winced. "I know," he said. "I didn't want to … but I had no choice. You know that."

She did. This knowledge did not, however, alleviate any of her anger. "You could have written to me," she continued, "let me know what had happened, explained yourself. Would that have been so difficult?"

"The thought never crossed my mind," he said. "Write you? What reason would I have had to think you might read anything I sent you? For all I knew, you hated me!"

"I did, at first," she confessed. "But then, as I thought about it, as we learned more about what you'd been asked to do, I didn't hate you anymore. You were just like Harry—put into an impossible situation and forced to make the best of it."

Draco scowled. "I'm not 'just like Potter.'"

"You should have told me," she scolded. "I could have helped you—we could have gone to Dumbledore. Even after, I had hoped you would come over to our side. I thought, by not killing him, that you'd realized how awful the Dark side was. I thought you might want to leave them."

"I did," he said quietly. "Remember?"

She stopped. Snape's memory. Draco _had_ gone to the Order; she just hadn't known about it. He hadn't wanted to remain a Death Eater at all.

"Still," she said. "You could have written to tell me that you were sending the Order information!"

"I couldn't tell anyone," he said, frustrated. "How many times do I have to say it? Snape forbade me from telling anyone, and as I said before, I had no idea you would have wanted to know. How could I have known that?"

"You should have!" she yelled. "After what you did, I thought … I thought we had formed something. We were connected, in a way, and I thought you knew you could trust me. You should have trusted me!"

"Why are you so angry?" he shouted, knocking over his chair as he stood. He walked to the opposite corner from where Hermione was.

"Because!" she returned loudly. "I'm angry at you! You-you made me care about you! After everything you did for me, I couldn't help it!"

His anger had completely disappeared, and he was staring at her as though he'd never seen her before. "You cared about me?"

She was just getting started, unable to stem the flow of emotions she had kept pent up for far too long. "I thought about you all the time," she said. "Wondered if you were all right, if you'd been killed for not completing your task, what you were doing. I tried to imagine what that night had meant for you. Did you reach the precipice and fail, only to leap over it at the next opportunity? Or was that the true glimpse of your character: unable to take a life?"

The anger slowly receded as she spoke. "It frustrated me that I couldn't get you out of my mind, but there was nothing for it. I spent many months, living in a tent, in various forests throughout England, with only Harry and Ron for company. The nights were so lonely, you can't even imagine, and my thoughts always turned to you. Were you alone? Were you staring up at a brilliant night sky, at that moment, just like me?"

Hermione couldn't quite bring herself to mention his shirt, the one he had given her to Transfigure the night he'd saved her. She had carried it around with her all that year, tucked safely in her beaded bag. When the nights got too lonely, she would bring it out, and it never failed to relax her. It was incredibly soft, likely from being worn so much, and a few times she fell asleep with it wrapped in her arms.

Her shoulders slumped, and she stared at the table. That had all happened before her interest changed, but perhaps it was the root of the alteration. If she hadn't spent so much time thinking about him, maybe now, when he was right in front of her, flesh and blood, she wouldn't be so drawn to him. But there was no point in dwelling on 'what ifs.'"

"I thought about you, too," he said.

Hermione looked up, and he had moved across the room to stand a few feet in front of her.

"I guess we were both changed by that night," he said. "I couldn't _stop_ thinking about you. Wondering if _you_ were all right, where you were, if Death Eaters had gotten you."

She saw him clench his fists as he said this.

"_I_ couldn't get _you_ out of my mind. Occasionally, I asked Snape for information about you … under the guise of asking about Potter and Weasley too … but he didn't seem to know anything. I reckon it's because he wasn't really in with the Order anymore."

Hermione couldn't look him in the eye, and so she concentrated on the clasp of his robes. Her heart was pounding furiously at his admission, but she didn't dare to hope that his interest was anything other than concern.

"You were right," he continued, stepping closer. "Some kind of bond was formed between us that night, and nothing can change that."

At this, she did meet his eyes, but instead of betraying her feelings, her expression was empty, almost sad. "I was glad when I learned that you were alive," she said quietly.

"When was that?" he asked.

"When I saw you. In your home." Now she looked at him. He was frowning, but his face displayed more than that. He was also pained by what she had said, and his eyes were full of sorrow and regret.

"That was the worst day of my life," he said.

She raised her eyebrows. "The worst day of _your_ life? What about mine?"

"I didn't mean—"

"You know," she said sharply, her anger renewed. "When I saw you, I was almost happy. I thought, foolishly so, that you would do something, since you had once before. I thought maybe, just maybe, that was the moment when you would show your true self again and help us."

"I wanted to," he insisted. "When I saw you … my first thought was to rush in and free you, but it would have been futile."

"Why?" she snapped. "It was no different than before, only this time, I wasn't stabbed and could have helped you!"

"The situation was very different!" Draco backed away now, his own anger sending him to pacing. "I thought about it, looked at all the options. I wasn't facing one competent and two slow sixth-years. I would have had to stop my parents and Bellatrix, not to mention Greyback and his goons!" He glared at her. "Not even close to the same. If I had taken down Bellatrix, my father would have cursed me without even blinking. If I had started with him, then Bella might have just killed me to rid herself of my oppressive presence," he spat bitterly. "That's all assuming Greyback stood back and watched, of course. My mother wasn't really a threat, not to me, anyway, but she would have done whatever my father commanded."

Hermione didn't speak right away, taking in what Draco had said. He had obviously given some thought to helping her, but in the end, his inaction had resulted in her being tortured by Bellatrix.

"You should have tried," she said through gritted teeth. "That would have been the right thing to do."

Now his eyes were pleading and helpless. "If I had tried, I would have failed. There's no way I could disarm three Death Eaters! Even if I had, my father is stronger and could still have outmaneuvered me. Bella would have gone for one of you, and even without a wand, she was dangerous. My cover would have been blown, and I couldn't have continued spying for Snape."

"But … you still did nothing," she said.

Draco gave her a curious look. "Was that your first time under the Cruciatus?"

"Yes, thankfully," she replied. "Why?"

"No reason," he said, turning away from her and walking back toward the corner.

Hermione had caught something in his eyes, something she couldn't define, and lunged after him, grabbing his arm and stopping him. "Why did you ask?" she demanded, staring up into his eyes.

"I said no reason," he muttered.

She kept a tight grip on his forearm, and when he tried to jerk his arm away, he hissed in pain, his face contorting with the force of it. Hermione immediately released him, but he made no move to get away. Instead, his eyes were clenched shut and he was taking deep breaths.

"I-I'm sorry," she said.

Draco nodded, still breathing purposefully. Finally, he looked back at her and rolled up the sleeve of his robe. She could see where the Dark Mark had been, but in its place was a wound that didn't seem to be healing. Voldemort had been dead for a few weeks, yet the tissue looked as though it had been damaged that same day.

"Oh!" she breathed. "Do you want me to heal it?"

"You can't," he said, recovering his arm. "It requires a special remedy that they won't give me in prison."

"That's awful! It could get infected!"

"It's a magical wound. It won't," he said.

"I haven't forgotten that there's something you're not telling me," Hermione said.

Draco looked away. "I didn't … remain idle while Bella …"

"Tortured me," she finished. "Look me in the eye and tell me what she did to me." Hermione didn't want a repeat of Ron being unable to say that she had kissed him. It was important not to hide from facts, not to try to cover them up or make them sound like less than they were.

He did as she asked, though it clearly wasn't easy. "While Bella tortured you, I … I cast a spell to deflect some of the pain on me. As much as I could tolerate and not draw attention."

Hermione gasped, bringing her hand to her mouth. "What?"

"You didn't know what I was doing," he said, understanding in his voice, "because you'd never felt the full force of the spell before."

"It's worse?" she whispered, horrified at the thought.

"Much. I've been at the receiving end of Aunt Bella's favorite curse more times than I care to count," Draco explained.

"Why didn't you look at me? The entire time, you stood with your back to me." Hermione paused. "I really wish I could have looked into your eyes. It might have helped."

"There were a few reasons I couldn't look at you," he said. "One, I had to concentrate. By looking away, I didn't have to keep my expression impassive, which would have been much harder if I had been facing you. Two …" When he turned to her, his eyes were full of compassion and regret. "I couldn't bear to see you hurt. Hearing your screams gave me nightmares for weeks. I didn't need a picture to go along with it."

"That's why I was able to keep my story straight," Hermione said, amazed. "Because you were helping me. I couldn't believe it was possible that I could hold up so well under the curse, but … you helped me."

"When I was sent to fetch the goblin, I was terrified. I couldn't keep up the spell up unless I was in close proximity to you, but Bella waited until I had returned to pick it up again. I also lowered the wards around the house, thinking maybe someone was trying to find you. The Order, or the Ministry, someone. I guess it worked, because Dobby got in."

"I don't remember much about how we got out of there," Hermione admitted.

"You were unconscious. Everything happened so fast … Bella wanted to give you to Greyback, and then Weasley burst into the room. I can honestly say I have never been so glad to see his ugly face in my life. But then, the chandelier fell on you … I thought you were gone." His voice was barely a whisper by the time he finished speaking.

"You saved my life again," Hermione said after a few moments.

Draco gave her a frown. "I think we just established that I didn't do anything of the kind."

"By taking some of the effect of the Cruciatus," she explained. "No one knows how long a person can withstand the curse or where the threshold is between insanity and death. You probably kept me from going mad from the pain."

"I … I hadn't considered that," he said.

"My recovery wasn't horrible. I slept for a long time, but there were no residual effects from the curse." She smiled warmly at him. "Thank you."

He glanced up to meet her eyes and gave her a small smile in return. "It's nice to know I did something useful that day."

A knock sounded on the door, and they both jumped, startled at the sudden intrusion of the outside world.

"I guess I need to be going. I'm glad we talked …" She stopped, not quite sure what to call him. At this point, 'Malfoy' seemed far too impersonal for everything they had shared, but 'Draco' was so familiar. Just thinking about his name sent shivers down her spine.

Draco shook his head. "Was there something you'd stopped by to talk about? Something specific?"

"No, I only wanted to say good luck for tomorrow." That reminded Hermione of Daphne's presence, and another wave of jealousy rushed through her. "Will, um, Daphne be there?"

He nodded. "You should speak to her. I think you'd like her."

_Fat chance_. "Yeah, maybe."

"She's not like you might think," Draco pressed. "She's a lot like you, actually. Thoughtful, studious, kind … fair."

"She's beautiful," Hermione blurted without meaning to. Then she blushed.

Draco shrugged. "I guess some people think so."

"You don't?" she asked, hoping that her questions wouldn't be taken as anything other than curiosity. Certainly not interest.

"She's not really my type," he said.

That stung. After all, he'd just gotten through saying Daphne was a lot like her. "Oh."

"As far as looks go, I mean," he added quickly.

_Oh_. "If I see her, I'll say hi," Hermione said, forcing a smile. The guard knocked again, and Hermione went to the door.

"Wait," said Draco, moving to the edge of the table, which was as far as he could go due to the wards in the room.

Hermione had one hand on the knob and kept it there as she turned back toward him.

"I … Hermione, would you …" He stopped and let out an exasperated sigh.

She refused to let the shock at hearing her given name register on her face, but it sent her heart pounding once more.

"If I get out, that is," he continued, "I was hoping you might … if you're available, anyway, but I would always regret not trying, I think."

Hermione thought she knew what he wanted to ask but refused to form the cohesive thought in her mind until he actually asked. She certainly wasn't going to make it easy for him. "What are you saying?"

"I am crazy about you," he said, very straightforward. "And I was hoping you might feel similarly. If so, and if I am released, I think a celebratory dinner would be in order."

She was completely surprised. At first, it had seemed as though he would have a difficult time getting out his request, but then he just … said it. Hermione refused to let him see just how thrilled she was and merely nodded. "That sounds fine. Dinner is … fine."

"Excellent. This weekend?" he pressed.

What would she tell her friends? They would never forgive her, and Ron would blow a fuse, he would be so angry—especially after their recent falling out, which still hadn't been mended.

"This weekend is fine," she said lamely. She liked the idea of Draco liking her, and she would have to deal with her friends eventually. Better to do it sooner than later, and she hated lying if she didn't have to.

He grinned. "Good. It's a date."

* * *

Draco sat slumped in the chair at Snape's desk. The Headmaster was pacing, rambling on about his duties and his mediocre performance in his classes. Draco was barely listening. All he could think about was Granger underneath that chandelier after undergoing numerous bouts of the torture spell.

"Are you listening?" Snape barked.

"Not really, sir," he admitted.

Snape sat at his desk and folded his hands. "Does this … disinterest have anything to do with your Easter holidays?"

Draco nodded.

"I heard about what happened—everything. The Dark Lord was infinitely displeased with your parents and your Aunt," said Snape.

"Figures." He just wanted to know if she was all right.

"The Granger girl is fine," Snape said.

Draco whipped his head up to stare at Snape. "What makes you say that?"

Snape smirked. "I don't always need Legilimency to know what's on someone's mind. I have noticed how often you speak of her." Draco wanted to protest, but he was cut off. "Don't bother trying to deny it. Something happened between you and the girl that you refuse to tell me. At every possibility, you mention her name. I can only assume you have some sort of … feelings for the girl. After the disaster in your home, with Granger leaving unconscious, it only makes sense you would worry about her."

"I …" Draco stopped. There was no point in denying anything. "She's okay?"

"Yes," Snape replied. "Remarkably so, considering the treatment she received at Bellatrix's hand."

"Good," he said, feeling somewhat better. At least she was all right.

Snape stared intently at Draco for a moment, then spoke. "If you care for the girl, allow me to offer this small bit of advice. Do not waste whatever time with her you are given. Show her that she is the most important thing to you, more important than everything you have been taught by your parents. Blood status is false protection—it means nothing, in the end. The choices you make are what define you. Dumbledore said something like that. It sounded better coming from him."

Draco sensed that there was more behind Snape's words than mere advice, but he didn't want to risk angering his only ally by asking too many questions. All he could do was nod.

"Now, stop moping about, worrying about the girl. Get back to your duties, and more importantly, your schoolwork. Your mother would not be happy to learn you've let your grades slip recently."

"Yes, sir," Draco replied. She … Hermione … was alive, and well. Snape had said that his information was proving useful to the Order. Draco's life wasn't empty and useless after all.

**ooo**

**End Notes:** Many, many thanks to my wonderful betas: Shug and Pokeystar! Hope you liked this chapter!


	6. Sentence First, Verdict Later

* * *

**Queen of Hearts**: Now then, are you ready for your sentence?  
**Alice**: But there has to be a verdict first.  
**Queen of Hearts**: Sentence first! Verdict afterwards.  
**Alice**: But that just isn't the way.  
**Queen of Hearts**: _shouting_ All ways are...!  
**Alice**: ...your ways, your Majesty.

"Alice in Wonderland," Lewis Carroll

**A/N**: Remember: First part is present, second part is past.

**Disclaimer**: Harry Potter and his world belong to JK Rowling. I write to learn. No money is being made.

**Chapter 6**** – Sentence First, Verdict Later**

Hermione went straight from visiting Draco to see Harry. If she was going to be seeing Draco—the thought made her grin—she was going to confront her friends from the beginning. She wasn't quite ready to talk to Ron yet; she hoped to have Harry on her side before approaching him.

Molly answered the door and called Harry down. Hermione led him outside to somewhere private.

"What's this about?" Harry asked, once Hermione had stopped walking.

She wrung her hands and wondered briefly if the whole idea of going out with Draco was a mistake. "What would you say if I told you I had a date?"

Harry frowned slightly. "I would ask, who's the bloke?"

"I don't want you to be upset with me," Hermione started. "But, it's … Malfoy."

He stared at her for a few seconds, then forced a laugh. "Good one, Hermione. For a moment, I thought you were serious."

"Harry," she mumbled. "I am serious."

He shook his head. "How … I don't … when … Him?"

"Yes, him," she huffed. "I know I'm not living up to everyone's expectations, but I don't really care."

"You've only seen him, what, three times in prison? How can you possibly want to go on a date with him after so little time?" Harry asked.

"There's more to it than that," she assured him.

"Yeah?" He raised an eyebrow. "What's that? Have you been secretly seeing him for years, or something?"

"No, nothing like that. And I can't really tell you what I mean." He looked ready to stomp away in frustration. "All I'm asking is that you trust me, Harry. I know what I'm doing."

"Does Ron know?" Harry demanded.

"Not yet, I wanted to talk to you first," she confessed. "I was hoping you would be a little supportive."

"Of Malfoy? No way, Hermione." Harry shook his head adamantly. "Never. Just because he helped the Order doesn't make him one of the good guys. Look at Mundungus; he was rotten, even if he didn't want to abolish Muggles."

She held her tongue, despite desperately wanting to tell Harry about Malfoy saving her life. Surely that would change his opinion. However, it still wasn't her secret to tell.

"Are you sure about this?" Harry asked, searching her eyes. When Hermione didn't answer, he visibly relaxed. "I think you should give this some thought. Really consider what it would mean. Do you … fancy him, then?"

"Yes," she answered.

Harry made a face. "Promise me you'll think about this, okay?"

"I will give it more thought, even though that's all I've been doing recently," she assured him. She had decided to go ahead and see Draco even if her friends weren't supportive. Well, Harry, at least; she didn't expect Ron to even speak to her for a long time after he found out.

Now, though, after speaking to Harry, she got a taste of how difficult it would be to attempt a relationship with their former enemy when no one approved. She wasn't averse to choosing a hard path, but she needed to be certain it was completely worth it.

**ooo**

The next day, Hermione arrived at the Ministry with Harry and Ron an hour early. Ron still wasn't quite speaking to her, but he wasn't being unpleasant, either. The three of them sat together, and slowly the courtroom filled with other people.

Hermione saw Daphne and, feeling bad for the way she had treated her the day before, gave her a small wave. Narcissa and Andromeda were also in attendance, as was the entire Wizengamot, and by the time the trial started, the seats were completely full with spectators.

Draco was ushered in, still dressed in prison robes, his hands and feet magically bound. He held his head high, and once he was in his seat, began scanning the crowd. Hermione watched as he found his mother and aunt, then Daphne, and finally, her. He blinked at her and glanced away.

The prosecution went first, trying to show that Draco was a cold-hearted, ruthless killer. Of course, they had no real proof and resorted to massive speculation and witnesses who had once been Draco's friends. Hermione knew they were lying, and from the look on Daphne's face, she knew they were lying as well. Maybe Hermione would get along with the other woman after all.

Then the wizard in charge of defending Draco got up and began to present the well-organized, carefully prepared defense. Narcissa spoke on behalf of her son, though Hermione didn't think she would get a lot of sympathy from the Wizengamot.

Harry's turn to speak went much better. He described the night of Dumbledore's death on the Astronomy Tower and Draco's hesitation.

"What, in your opinion, would have been the outcome, if Mr. Malfoy had not been interrupted by the Death Eaters?" asked the Chief Warlock.

Harry swallowed, then said firmly, "I believe he would have taken Dumbledore's offer."

Hermione glanced at Draco to see what, if any, reaction he made. He continued to stare at Harry, his expression blank.

Next, the defense continued with Snape's memories. In preparation for the trial, all members of the Wizengamot had been given copies of the memories, as well as the letters from Andromeda. All the defense did was remind those present of the convincing evidence of his client's efforts against Voldemort.

The defense was about to call another witness, when the Chief Warlock held up his hand. "There's no need. I have seen enough to give me the true picture of the matter. Mr. Malfoy. It is clear from what we have heard today that you willingly and knowingly used two Unforgivable curses during your sixth year of school, and that two students nearly died as a result of your efforts."

Draco shifted in his seat, and for the first time all day, Hermione thought he looked nervous.

"It is also clear that the circumstances surrounding the death of Albus Dumbledore were extraordinary in the least, and that your situation was a very complex one. I do not envy the position you were in. Since you were not the direct cause of Dumbledore's death, I find it unfair to hold you accountable for it. All in favor?"

Most of the room agreed, and Hermione felt a small wave of relief. There was still much to be decided, however.

The Warlock continued. "The evidence presented has shown that after your return to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, you sought a way to assist the Order of the Phoenix in its efforts against Voldemort. I also have evidence, privy only to me, that depicts a scenario that took place before the night of Albus' death. This goes to show proof of your character, Mr. Malfoy, that your actions in your sixth year were the anomaly, not the other way around."

Hermione gripped the small vial she had received back from the Warlock that day and smiled.

"I hereby propose that all charges be dropped against Draco Abraxas Malfoy. All opposed?" A few people raised their hands. "Those in favor?" The vast majority. "Well, Mr. Malfoy, I suspect your mother will be glad to have you home for dinner." He pointed his wand at the scroll which had the charges listed and muttered a spell. A bright, red light encompassed the scroll, and then the Warlock handed it to an assistant.

"I sentence you to one year probation," he continued, looking over his glasses at Draco. "You are not to leave the country, nor are you to engage in the Dark Arts. If you are found to be in violation of this parole, you will be sent to prison for a length of time that befits the infraction. Do you understand?"

Draco nodded. "Yes, Sir."

"Good," said the Warlock. "Now, we'll adjourn for fifteen minutes before beginning the next case."

Hermione was grinning broadly as Draco's bonds were released and his wand returned to him. Then Narcissa rushed to him and hugged him tightly.

"Ready to go, then?" Harry asked.

"No, I'd like to speak with him, if that's all right."

Ron just scowled, and Harry sighed, but nodded.

After speaking with his mother, Draco walked deliberately to where Hermione was sitting. She couldn't tell if he was nervous about Harry and Ron, however. He stopped just beside the barrier separating them.

"Hey, Granger," he said and then motioned to Harry and Ron with his head. "Enjoy the show?"

She beamed at him. "I'm so happy. They made the right decision."

Draco turned to Harry. "Thanks, Potter."

"I was only doing the right thing," Harry said stiffly.

"Yes, but you didn't have to," Draco said. "I appreciate it."

Harry mumbled something incoherent and scowled at his feet. Hermione was grateful that Ron was simply trying to ignore Draco's presence.

"So, Granger. I reckon you could tell them now," said Draco, his pale grey eyes boring into hers. "If you want."

Hermione nodded.

"Tell us what?" demanded Ron glaring at Malfoy.

Draco ignored him. "See you later?" he said, his tone questioning and hopeful.

Hermione nodded again, sensing Ron's rage climbing. Draco then returned to his mother and aunt, and soon, they had gone.

"Tell us what?" Ron repeated, his face red with fury.

Harry, too, was watching her expectantly.

She held out the vial, and Harry took it without a word. "I don't think you would believe me if I told you. Watch this together." With a pointed look at Harry, she continued, "You know where to find me."

They didn't try to stop her as she exited the courtroom and made her way home.

**ooo**

Harry and Ron didn't make her wait long. She had been home for an hour and a half when there was a knock on her door. After confirming it was them, Hermione admitted them to her parents' house, showing them into the living room.

Harry, who was quiet and sullen, flopped impressively onto the sofa, slouching into the corner. Ron, who was extremely pale, sat gingerly on the other end of the sofa.

Hermione waited for one of them to speak. It was Harry.

"Merlin, Hermione … Wow."

"Yeah," echoed Ron, nodding slightly.

"We had no idea he did that," Harry continued.

"I know," she said gently. "I couldn't tell you."

Harry leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. "I-I still can't believe that Malfoy did that for you! I thought he hated us, you in particular. I thought he would have been pleased to see one of us suffer, but …"

"So this is why you wanted to help him?" Ron asked. "Because you felt you owed him?"

"Not exactly," she explained. "I felt, and still feel, indebted to him, but I wanted to help him because I knew what kind of person he could be. If he'd been sent to prison, I think it's very possible that he would have turned out like Lucius. I didn't want to see that happen."

"Is this the evidence the Warlock had?" Harry asked.

"Yes. I took that vial to him yesterday after I saw Malfoy."

Harry slowly shook his head. "I never thought I would say this, but … I'm thankful for that git. What he did …"

Ron shuddered. "I'm sorry I gave you such a hard time, Hermione," he said.

"It makes me almost physically sick to think about what might have happened if Malfoy hadn't stumbled upon you that night," Harry said.

"Thank you, Harry. I'm glad to hear you say that," she said.

"I _was_ physically ill at the thought," Ron mumbled. Then he stood and wrapped his arms around Hermione. "If I'd lost you, I don't know what I would have done. I'm so sorry about … well, everything."

"Oh, Ron," she said, hugging him back. "Me, too."

After another moment, he pulled away, a bit of color back on his cheeks. "Well, that's that. We owe Malfoy our eternal gratitude, but he's out of prison now, and we'll never have to see him again. We can finally be rid of him."

Hermione felt Harry's eyes burning into the side of her head, and she glanced at him warily.

"What?" said Ron.

Hermione sighed. "We aren't quite rid of him just yet, Ron."

"Why not?" he asked, turning to Harry and then back.

"The thing is …" she started but then stopped. She still hadn't decided to take the hard path, but she wanted to. Better now than later, she told herself. "I might be seeing him."

Ron's face went from confused, to hurt, to angry, and then a combination of the last two. "You … _what_?"

"Ron, please just listen to me—" She reached out for his arm, but he pulled it away.

"No, I don't think so, Hermione," he sneered. "You're going out with that … that … with _him_? How could you do this!? I have been in love with you for years!"

Hermione's eyes filled with tears. "Ron …"

"_I_ have always been nice to _you_, _I _have never called you names or made fun of you. I am the one who deserves to be with you, not _him_." His eyes were blazing with anger. "He's just going to hurt you—that's all he knows. Just you wait and see, Hermione. And I won't be around to pick up the pieces once he's left you broken."

She was crying now. "Please, Ron, don't be like this!"

"_You_ chose this, Hermione. The moment you considered him, you chose this. You have no one to blame but yourself." With that, Ron Disapparated.

Hermione sobbed and collapsed onto the sofa. Harry put a hand on her back but didn't say anything. After a few minutes, she was able to speak. "I suppose I should have expected this. Oh, Harry, I hate hurting him so much! I've never seen such pain in his eyes. First I tell him I don't like him that way, and now this … I hate being the cause of his pain. He's such a _good_ person, Harry."

"I know," he said softly. "As much as I would like to see you two together and happy, if you know that it won't happen, it's better for Ron to know that now, rather than later. It'll hurt less in the long run."

"And then I tell him I'm going to date the one person who ridiculed him, laughed at him, made fun of him at school … I'm a horrible person, Harry!"

He grimaced. "You aren't horrible. Just … confused, I think. This Malfoy thing will blow away once the novelty wears off."

Hermione nodded, part of her hoping it was true, even though her heart was unwaveringly against it.

* * *

Draco followed the other Slytherins out of the Great Hall, but he had no intention of joining the Death Eaters outside. For a moment, he thought of his parents and wondered if they would forgive him for his absence. Slipping away from his classmates, however, would be a tricky thing.

He glanced around for Crabbe and Goyle and saw them standing off to the side.

"What are you doing?" he asked, joining them.

Crabbe's grin made Draco shudder. "We're going after Potter. If we get him and take him to the Dark Lord, we'll be heroes!"

Granger would be with Potter. If these two dimwits were going after him, they'd find her too. All he wanted was to keep her safe. "I'm going with you," Draco announced.

Crabbe and Goyle exchanged a wary look. "No offense, mate," said Goyle. "But you haven't been all that interested this year."

"Yeah, what's the matter with you?" Crabbe asked.

"I want to prove myself to him, finally," Draco sneered. "I'm coming, like it or not."

"Fine," said Goyle. "But we're going under Diss-lusion."

Draco bit back a corrective retort and did as Crabbe and Goyle did, casting the Disillusionment spell on himself. "Where are we going?" Draco asked as the other two hurried through the castle.

"To find Potter," said Crabbe.

"Then we should go back to the Great Hall and follow him when he leaves."

"Oh. Yeah," said Goyle.

Draco rolled his eyes and doubled back to find Potter. Then, to his great dismay, he saw that Granger wasn't with Potter when he left the Great Hall. He started to panic but forced himself to calm down. Surely they would be reunited soon.

They followed Potter as he spoke with the Gryffindor ghost and then the Grey Lady. Draco couldn't understand everything they were saying; they were hiding around the corner, as he was unable to convince Crabbe and Goyle that it was safe to be more in the open.

Next, Potter ran back toward the Entrance Hall, and Draco hurried to keep up. Potter stopped to talk to Hagrid, and then someone—or something—screamed from outside the castle. It made Draco's blood run cold.

Soon, Potter was off again, and this time he ran into a whole lot of current and former students, all ready to fight. Then, _finally_, they came upon Granger and Weasley. She was going on and on about something, her face lit enthusiastically. Draco was stunned; he'd never really thought she was anything special to look at, but in that moment, she was beautiful.

Of course, the fact that she was raving about something Weasley had done put a slight damper on his admiration.

"What's a hoe-cux?" whispered Goyle.

"Shut up," Draco hissed. "I have no idea."

The three Gryffindors set off again, finally stopping outside the room Draco had used during his sixth year to let the Death Eaters into the school. During most of this year, Longbottom had commandeered the room, using it for his own purposes. Draco had no idea what went on in the room, but he was very curious; perhaps now they would get in.

They sent an older witch, Draco's cousin, and Potter's girl away, but then something happened that made Draco's stomach lurch.

Weasley said something about house-elves, and then Granger threw her arms around him and kissed him. They were locked together, oblivious to the world and Potter's attempts to break them apart. Finally they surfaced; both looked embarrassed but also thoroughly snogged. It was all Draco could do not to simply leave Crabbe and Goyle to do whatever they wanted to Potter. He'd wanted to protect Granger, but that was a foolish thought. She had Potter and Weasley; she didn't need him. She would never even know he was there, would never know how much he thought about her, wished that she thought about him, too.

Draco blinked and they were in the hall again, Potter pacing in front of the room. A door appeared, and Draco, Crabbe and Goyle barely made it through undetected before it shut.

The three split up, looking for a diadem. Draco didn't care why, all he wanted was to curl up in a dark corner and disappear until it was all over and he was free to live his own life.

Crabbe followed Potter, a strange, inhuman look on his face. Draco had no choice but to go along, wishing instead that he could have followed Granger.

Crabbe confronted Potter, and Draco noticed that Potter looked frustrated. His eyes kept darting around the area, and he didn't seem too concerned about Goyle's threats. He was looking for the diadem, Draco realized. Though he had no idea the importance of this thing, he wanted Potter to get it.

"_**No**_!" he cried, staying Crabbe's arm as he attempted to repeat his spell. "_**If you wreck the room, you might bury this diadem thing!**_"

"_**What's that matter?" said Crabbe, tugging himself free. "It's Potter the Dark Lord wants, who cares about a die-dum?"**_

"_**Potter came in here to get it**_," Draco said, finding it hard to disguise his impatience with his once-friend. "_**So that must mean**_—"

Crabbe interrupted with a ferocious sneer. _**"'Must mean?' Who cares what you think? I don't take your orders no more, Draco. You an' your dad are finished."**_

Then Potter lunged for something, and Crabbe shot the Cruciatus at him. Draco was frantic; if Potter was hurt, they'd look for Granger. If Potter was killed … He refused to think about the possibility, of what life would be like living under the Dark Lord's rule.

He tried to convince Crabbe to see reason, but the boy was intent on killing Potter, despite the Dark Lord's wish to take him alive. Granger showed up then, and Crabbe shot the Killing curse at her, which she dodged. Still, Draco was angrier than he had ever been in his life.

"_**Don't kill him! DON'T KILL HIM**_!" he shouted, when Crabbe and Goyle had their wands trained on Potter. Potter couldn't die; if he did, hope—his hope—died too.

The next few seconds were a blur. Crabbe tried to kill Weasley, and Potter was shouting about the diadem. Then Granger screamed his name, and everyone looked up to see Weasley and Crabbe running as fast as they could from giant flames. Draco could only stare in horror until Potter tried to put the flames out. Then he grabbed Goyle and pulled him along, but they were falling behind.

Over his shoulder, Draco saw the terrifying magical flames transforming into hideous beasts, eating at the contents of the room as though they were living creatures.

_This is it_, Draco thought, climbing a stack of precarious desks. _I'm going to die in here, because the Dark Lord's ways poisoned my friends. _He let out a wail of fright; he had never imagined he would meet his end this way: engulfed by magical fire.

But then, just when he'd given up, he saw Potter flying through the air on a broom and held up his free arm. He was too heavy for Potter with Goyle, but then Granger grabbed Goyle, and Draco clambered onto Harry's broom.

He couldn't believe what had just happened, but he shouted for Potter to get out as fast as possible. Then, to Draco's horror, Potter went back for the diadem, diving and swerving as though he were going for the Snitch. When Potter grabbed the item, he then turned around sharply, flying full force for the door.

The two brooms burst through, into the hallway, and Draco fell off the broom when it hit the opposite wall. He could barely breathe from the smoke and sheer terror, and sat on the floor, trying to calm his nerves. He saw Goyle, still Stunned, lying beside him, and realized that Crabbe hadn't made it out of the room.

Draco remained slumped against the wall, watching Potter, Weasley and Granger talking about the diadem and Fiendfyre. _Crabbe, you idiot!_ he thought, before he had another coughing fit. When Draco looked up at Granger, her face was covered in soot and her hair singed, but she was alive.

Then the wall exploded.

**ooo**

**End Notes**: Thanks for reading! And many, many thanks to my excellent betas, pokeystar and shug! :D

Lines taken from "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows" written in _**bold, italics**_**. **And if you're wondering about "Diss-lusion," yes, JKR made Crabbe and Goyle out to be so thick that at the age of eighteen, they couldn't say "Disillusion."


	7. Mean What You Say

**Note: **This chapter is a bit different with respect to the timelines. The first section is present, the next is past, then present again, then future, and finally about a year after section 3. That's confusing. LOL.

Please remember the goal of this story: To redeem Draco from his fate in Deathly Hallows. I turned it into a Draco/Hermione story as well, but that was simply icing on the cake.

**Disclaimer**: Harry Potter and his world belong to JK Rowling. I write to learn. No money is being made.

'Exactly so,' said Alice.  
'Then you should say what you mean,' the March Hare went on.  
'I do,' Alice hastily replied; 'at least — at least I mean what I say — that's the same thing, you know.'  
'Not the same thing a bit!' said the Hatter. 'You might just as well say that "I see what I eat" is the same thing as "I eat what I see"!'

**Chapter 7 – Mean What You Say**

Hermione received a letter from Draco the day after his trial, asking her to dinner that Friday evening. She waited a full hour, during which she made a list of pros and cons, before responding with an affirmative. Her list had ended in a draw, but her heart insisted that she accept Draco's invitation.

That settled, Hermione waited two days before attempting to speak with Ron again. She found him in Diagon Alley, at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, restocking shelves with George.

"Hi George, Ron," she said upon entering.

They both looked up from their task. George gave her a pained grin, while Ron merely scowled.

"What brings you by?" George asked, leaving the shelves and going to the counter.

"I was hoping to catch Ron," she said.

"Ah, well, you're in luck; he's here." George nodded in Ron's direction and set about straightening the wares on the wall behind the counter.

Hermione went to where Ron was still working. "Hi," she said.

"Hello," he replied distantly.

"Can we talk?" she asked, kneeling beside him.

He shrugged. "Reckon I can't stop you."

"Somewhere a little more private, perhaps?" she said.

"Go on," called George. "I've got things under control here."

Ron didn't look as though he was happy to hear this and made a big show of standing up, putting the un-stocked products away and leaving the shop.

They walked halfway down the alley without speaking a word to each other. Hermione hated the distance between them, the painful silence. "Ron, talk to me."

"About what?" he asked, shuffling his feet and kicking a pebble.

"What else?" she says. "It's only been three days, and I can't stand that we're not friends right now."

Ron turns toward her, a fresh dose of anger and pain in his eyes. "Yeah? Well, you should have thought of that before you decided to go and snog the enemy." He kicked a stone so hard it bounced ahead of them a few feet before hitting a stray cat on the side.

"I've done no such thing, Ron," Hermione insisted. "And he's not the enemy, remember?"

"He's as good as," Ron mumbled. Then, frustrated, he said, "I don't understand you, Hermione. Just three weeks ago you kissed me, and now you want to go out with Malfoy? How did that happen, anyway? No," he added quickly, moving to the side to put more space between them. "Never mind, I don't think I want to know."

"I can't explain it," Hermione answered him anyway. "I thought it would always be you, but those feelings … they faded. I didn't mean for it to happen, I didn't want it to, but it did, and there's nothing I can do about it."

"How did _he_ earn them?" Ron sneered. "What could he have done to earn your affections, Hermione?"

"Other than saving my life?" she retorted. "That didn't make me fancy him, but it certainly altered the way I thought about him. How could it not have?"

Ron scowled. "He's still a slimy, prejudiced git. It'll take a lot more than saving your life to convince me otherwise."

Hermione sighed impatiently. "Fine, just—fine. You can be so stubborn sometimes, you know that?"

"Me?" he said incredulously. "Oh, that's rich, coming from you. You're too stubborn to see that Malfoy might be anything other than a complete saint!"

"That's not true!" she cried. "I know he's not perfect, but I can't help the way I feel."

Ron recoiled as though struck. Then he scoffed. "Oh, I keep forgetting. You fancy the rodent. That's fine, Hermione. But you can't have it both ways."

"What's that supposed to mean?" she demanded.

"You made a choice the day you picked him over me and Harry. We won't forget where we stand in your eyes, so don't come crying to us when Malfoy breaks your heart and stomps all over the pieces!"

They had reached the end of the Alley nearest the Leaky Cauldron and stopped beside the fence.

"I never picked him over you and Harry," Hermione said through gritted teeth. "Never."

"You picked him over me," Ron said angrily.

"I certainly did not!" she protested. "I can't force myself to have feelings for you, just as much as I can't force my feelings for him to go away!"

"But you don't have to go out with him!" Ron shouted.

Hermione was thankful the street was mostly empty of the usual shoppers. "I am not asking you to accept this, Ron," she said, no longer yelling. "I want to know … I need to know that this won't end our friendship. I know that I've hurt you, and I'm so sorry, sorrier than you can imagine. I'm not asking you to forgive me right now … I just can't lose you completely."

He watched her, disbelief evident on his face.

"I need to know, Ron, because I can't make that choice. You've been my friend for my whole life—the part that really matters—and I won't risk losing you." She held her head high and looked him in the eye. "So tell me. If I go out with him, will our friendship be irrevocably damaged?"

Ron frowned but didn't answer right away. Then he scowled and looked away, kicking at pebbles again. When he met her eyes again, his expression was resigned.

"I don't like him," he said. "I'm eternally grateful to him for saving your life, but I can't stand him. That said …" He sighed heavily. "What kind of friend would I be if I kept you from him?"

Hermione's eyes widened. "You mean it?"

He paused; hope that she would change her mind in his eyes. "Yeah, I do. But that doesn't mean I'm not upset at you. Nothing changes. I don't know when I'll want to see you again."

She nodded, biting her lip. "But we will be friends again, right?"

"Course," he muttered. "Soon as you ditch the blond creep, let me know."

One corner of her mouth turned up in a slight smile. "Thanks, Ron."

"Yeah, whatever," he said, mussing his hair. "I need to get back to George. I don't like leaving him alone for too long."

"Is he okay?" she asked.

"He will be," Ron replied. "We all will be. Someday."

hr /

hr /

Draco didn't want to be anywhere near the Great Hall, where most of the fighting was taking place. For one thing, no one knew which side he was really on, and Granger's side would curse him without question if they saw him. He was still Disillusioned as he surveyed the scene in the Entrance Hall.

Then the Dark Lord shouted a command directed toward his father. Draco's hair stood on end. His mother was here, somewhere, fighting. He had to find her, get her out of the melee, get her safe! While he was at it, he could check on Granger, even though she was probably with Weasley. Draco scowled and entered the Great Hall.

It was bedlam. Curses were flying everywhere, people were running and shouting, and Draco had to take extreme care not to be on the receiving end of a stray curse.

As he was looking for his mother's signature bright blonde hair, Draco heard a sound that made him shiver: his Aunt's cackle. He turned toward the sound and saw Granger, Loony Lovegood, and the Weasley girl dueling her. Though they seemed to be holding her off, it was only a matter of time before Bellatrix gained the upper hand. She was too skilled to be taken down by even three adept but underage witches.

Suddenly, the Weasley mother came barreling toward Bellatrix, her face twisted in fury and her wand firing spells almost at will. The entire room paused to watch the showdown, and Draco found himself silently cheering for the red-headed witch.

When Bellatrix went down, the Dark Lord's anger erupted. Then Potter showed up out of nowhere, and Draco knew he was about to witness the end. Never in his life had he wanted Potter to succeed more.

The scene was truly fascinating. Neither struck; they merely circled, like carrion birds above a dying creature far below. They exchanged words that blended together, as Draco's attention was focused on finding his mother in the crowd.

His attention was soon drawn to the tête-à-tête, however, with the Dark Lord's words.

"_**I killed Severus Snape three hours ago, and …"**_

That was all Draco heard as his heart was suddenly pounding and his blood was rushing in his ears. Snape was … dead? The Dark Lord had killed him? That meant … Draco sank to the ground. That meant his only hope, the only one who knew the truth about him, could no longer vouch for him. Suddenly, his efforts over the last year meant nothing, and all that remained to speak of him was his failed attempt to kill Dumbledore.

Vaguely, Draco thought he heard his name being called, and then there was a bright light. Both Potter and the Dark Lord shouted and then it was over, really and truly, finally over. Potter had won.

"Draco!"

He perked up, knowing his mother's voice. She called again, and he stood, realizing that the Disillusionment Spell had been lifted, somehow.

"Mother!" he called.

"Draco!" She seemed to be moving closer, and the relief was evident in her voice.

He searched frantically until the crowd parted slightly, revealing his parents, safe and unharmed. Narcissa rushed to him and threw her arms around him, weeping with relief.

Lucius, too, embraced his family, for once unconcerned with how others might perceive it.

"Oh, my boy, my boy," Narcissa repeated, clinging to Draco and rubbing her hands through his hair.

"I … I couldn't find you," Draco said, his words muffled against his mother's neck. "I didn't see you fighting."

"We weren't," Lucius replied. "We were looking for you."

Draco smiled tentatively at his father over his mother's shoulder, and then he pulled away to smile at her. In that moment, the world was perfect.

hr /

hr /

Hermione waited anxiously in her parents' home for seven o'clock to arrive. Draco had insisted on picking her up in a car he had obtained for the evening. At ten minutes until the hour, she still wasn't sure what she would say to him. Even though Ron had assured her that dating Draco wouldn't affect their friendship for good, he still didn't want to see or speak to her.

She knew he needed time to get over her, but knowing that she was interested in someone else would only make things harder. Ron would never accept Draco, and if things progressed with him, Hermione didn't know what she would do.

When the doorbell rang at three minutes before seven, Hermione jumped, startled. She laughed at herself, and then opened the door.

Draco was there, dressed in dark black robes, a smile on his face. Parked in the driveway was a car that looked a lot like the ones that had ferried her, Harry, and the Weasleys to King's Cross Station on two occasions.

"Hey," he said. "Let's get these formalities over with, shall we? You look incredible. The car is my parents', I can't drive, but we've got a driver." Draco pointed over his shoulder. "Our reservation is in half an hour. You really do look beautiful. Ready to go?"

Hermione's eyes widened and a smile stole across her face as he spoke. "Hi," was all she could say. Was she really about to go on a date with Draco Malfoy?

"Hi," he repeated. "So … are you ready?"

"I … I'm not sure, to be honest …" She trailed off, kicking herself for what she was saying.

A flicker of pain flashed through his eyes, but he quickly masked it. "Second thoughts? I wondered if that might happen. What do I need to do? Talk to Potter and Weasley?"

"It's not second thoughts exactly," she said, genuinely touched that he was willing to speak to her friends if it meant he could spend time with her.

"What then?" he asked.

"Well … It occurred to me that I don't really know you that well," she said.

"Right … That's what dating is for, if I'm not mistaken."

He was still smiling, but she could tell he was … worried? Upset? Frustrated? "Want to come inside for a minute?" she asked.

Draco sighed. "Sure. Shouldn't stand outside in these robes, anyway."

Hermione led him to the living room, where he sat in the seat Harry had occupied a few days earlier.

"Where are your parents?" he asked, glancing around the house.

"Australia," she replied.

"Australia?" His look was incredulous. "Why?"

"It's a long story," she replied.

"What's on your mind?" Draco asked.

"Oh, a lot of things," she said, avoiding his eyes. "The biggest thing right now is you." She sat stiffly beside him. "And Ron."

The last trace of Draco's smile faded. "I see."

"It's not what you think," she rushed out. "But it is … complicated. I used to like him, very much. I know he liked me too, but he never did anything about it. My feelings for him started to weaken over the last year."

Draco perked up at this.

"Then I went and did something stupid," she confessed, her shoulder slumping. "I … I kissed him. It wasn't that long ago, either. About three weeks."

"I know," he said curtly.

She spun to face him. "You know? How?"

"I saw you," Draco said, his jaw tight. "When Crabbe, Goyle, and I followed you into the Room of Requirement. We were there when … you kissed him."

"Oh," she said quietly, returning her gaze to her lap. "I didn't know."

Draco let out his breath. "So, you kissed him. You just said it was stupid. Why?"

"Because," she began, "my feelings for him weren't what they had once been, but the kiss … well; you could say I tried to see if those feelings could be resurrected. It didn't happen. In fact, the kiss finally put an end to my fretting on the matter. However, Ron took it to mean that I fancied him, that I wanted to be more than friends."

"It certainly looked that way to me," Draco muttered, scowling slightly.

"It was hard to tell him that I didn't want the same thing he did. Our friendship was already strained, and then I told him about you. It hurt me immensely to cause him pain, especially right after his brother died, and it was _you_ of all people."

"What's that supposed to mean?" he interjected.

"Only that Ron despises you more than anyone. Face it, you were horrible to him in school, you made fun of his family, his clothes, his financial status—"

"I know," Draco growled. "I haven't got a problem with my memory."

"Then you can understand why it would be especially hard for him to hear that I want to spend time with you," she insisted.

"Do you want me to apologize?" Draco asked, despite looking like he'd rather do anything else.

"I … Well, that would certainly be nice. I'm telling you this so you'll understand."

"I'm trying," he said.

"I spoke with Ron yesterday, and after arguing a bit, he told me he wouldn't stand in the way if I wanted to be with you." Hermione hopped off the couch and went to the fireplace.

"Then … what's the problem?" Draco asked, not unkindly.

"He's still angry with me, still hurt. I understand that. I expect it. But it got me thinking about the future." She chuckled and turned back to him. "I know it's silly to think such things, but I can't help it. Seeing you is different than seeing … I don't know, Dean Thomas. I can't accept this lightly; it requires more thought, more weighing of the consequences, more—"

Hermione hadn't even heard him stand, much less walk across the room. One moment she was talking, the next, Draco's lips were pressed against hers. She was so surprised that, at first, she didn't even move. But he was persistent, and soon she melted into his arms, returning the kiss and completely forgetting about everything around her. All she could focus on was the feel of Draco's body against hers and his scent: cedarwood.

Draco slowed the kiss before their breathing became impaired, and when he pulled away, his eyes were bright and filled with desire. His gaze was so intense that Hermione had to lean against the wall or risk her knees giving way.

They stared at each other for a few moments before Hermione broke the silence. "Why did you do that?"

"You were talking too much," he said, "about thinking and consequences … I don't think it should be that way. Don't analyze, just go with what you feel."

"Yeah?" she said, her gaze falling to his lips.

Draco smirked. "Yeah. Tomorrow you can worry about tomorrow. But today …" He glanced at the wall over the fireplace. "We've got reservations in ten minutes. What do you say?"

Hermione looked at him skeptically. "What if I say no?" When he opened his mouth to protest, she continued. "What if I say … I want to be a little late for our reservation?"

He frowned. "Why—"

This time, she silenced him with a kiss.

hr /

hr /

"Hermione?"

"Hmm?"

Draco paused, pulling her closer. She nestled her head on his chest just below his chin and smiled, humming softly to herself.

"What did you mean … that night?" he asked, kissing the top of her head.

"What night? We've shared so many. Do you mean the night of our first date? Or the one when you punched Ron for insinuating that you and I were sleeping together when he was drunk? He respected you after that. Of course, we were, but he doesn't need to know that."

"Nope, neither of those nights." He chuckled. "I've wanted to slug him for most of my life. I was thankful for the excuse."

Hermione lazily drew lines on his chest with her fingers. "Was it the night you told me you love me?" she asked softly. "That was one of my favorite nights."

"No, love. I mean the first night. At Hogwarts. When I saved your life from Zabini."

"Oh," she said, then frowned, her hand pausing in place. "What did I say?"

"'I hope we both get to see the other side of this.' Do you remember that?" he asked, hoping she did.

"Yes," she replied. "I can't believe you do."

Draco moved so that he could face her. "I thought about it all the time my seventh year. I've always wanted to ask you about it."

"Why haven't you?" Hermione propped herself on her elbow and pulled the sheet up to cover herself.

"I'm not entirely sure. I probably didn't want to hear that you had forgotten it, or that it didn't really mean anything." He shrugged.

"I meant a few things by it," she began. "I hoped we would both live through the war. I hoped we would both live to see the end of prejudice against those of 'lesser blood.' At least, to see that Muggleborns and magical creatures were fully accepted into the wizarding world."

"You've done a lot to bring that about," Draco said, smiling proudly.

"I'm not finished yet, as you know," she stated. "There's still a fair bridge to gap between wizards and goblins."

"I know, love," he said, leaning over to kiss her forehead. "You'll win them all yet."

"I also meant it personally," Hermione continued. "I had hoped that you would overcome your superiority complex and realize that people like me are just people like you."

"You're two for two, so far," he said. Then he smirked and grabbed her, pulling her flush against him again. "But you've got to cut me some slack. It's hard not to feel superior when—"

"When you are smarter, richer, and better looking than everyone else," she finished, jabbing him playfully in the chest. "I have your little spiel memorized by now."

"I love it when you say it," he mumbled into her hair. "Much sexier."

Hermione rolled her eyes but indulged him in a heated kiss.

"Wait," he said, before things progressed beyond coherent thought. "Was that all?"

"Basically. You could add that I hoped we'd see a time when we could be friends and not have to fear retribution for that relationship." She smiled. "Or maybe, just maybe, my heart already knew what the rest of me would later learn: that you were meant to love me."

"You've got that right," he drawled, capturing her mouth and giving himself up to incoherency.

hr /

hr /

_Draco,_

_It pleases me greatly to see that you were released from prison. I followed the trial as best I could, and I know that Miss Granger played a critical role in your discharge. The article on the trial was well-written, and it answered a few questions of mine. _

_My memories were found, as I had hoped they would be, by Miss Granger. That the letters were discovered was a stroke of luck. Had Remus lived, I have no doubt that he would have given them to Miss Granger, but I couldn't be sure that he would keep them. That's why one of the memories I left behind included me writing a letter. Remus could testify that he had, indeed, received a number of letters from you over the course of about nine months. I am grateful to Andromeda for bringing them forward. _

_A rumor has reached my ear that you and Miss Granger are seeing each other. I am glad you took my advice to heart and didn't let the circumstance of her birth interfere with your chance for happiness. I still wish to know what secret you kept from me all those months, though something tells me I already know. This puzzle has been on my mind more than I care to admit._

_As you have probably discerned by this point, I am not, as the world believes, dead. I think I'll enjoy a few years of peaceful retirement before announcing my continued existence to the world. After all, one can't live in isolation for ever; no man is an island, Draco. You would do well to remember that. I'm plotting something grand for my return to England; I'll keep you apprised. _

_Keep this between us, although if your relationship with Miss Granger should reach … say, three months, I would not be opposed to you telling her. In addition, if you expect to undergo any significant rites of passage, do send me an invitation. I will be there._

_I am grateful for the time we spent getting to know one another better, Draco. I am immensely proud of all that you have accomplished, and I know to expect great things from you in the future._

_Good luck with everything, and if you see Minerva, tell her that May always comes before July. She will understand._

_Sincerely,_

_Severus_

_**The End**_

**ooo**

**Final Notes: **Anyone care to venture a guess about what Snape said to McGonagall? It's very, very obscure, and I'm probably the only one who would find it even remotely interesting.

**EDIT:** Okay, I've had SO many reviews about the "May before July" thing. It's time to talk about it. It's so lame, I hope you haven't gotten your hopes up! May's birthstone is Emerald, September is Ruby. Green = Slytherin, Red = Gryffindor. LAME, I know. Sorry to disappoint!

Well, that's the end! Endless thanks to my excellent betas on this story, pokeystar and sshg316. I really appreciate your thoughts and help!

As a couple of reviewers pointed out after the last chapter, with the end of this story, I will have no WIPs posted. It might be the first time since I started "We Learned the Sea" in September of 2006. I'm not really sure what to make of it! I have a few things brewing and one long story that's about 2/3 of the way done, but I won't begin to speculate about when that will be complete. So, I thank you for sticking with this story, and hope to see you around for the next one!

_-Luckei1/floorcoaster_


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